A Different Warden in Crestwood
by M2J MandalorianJedi
Summary: What if Hawke's Grey Warden ally wasn't Stroud, Alistair nor Loghain, but the Hero of Fereldan? Featuring: Female Amell, Female Warrior Hawke and Male Mage Adaar. Loosely based on one of my playthroughs of all three games and some elements of the novels are included. Warden/Alistair, Hawke/Anders, Adaar/Cassandra
1. Inquisitor Hector Adaar

**A/N: **Loosely inspired by **"****Dragon Age Party Banter- The Hero of Fereldan"** by **Harnette**. Each chapter title of this fic will tell you from whose perspective it is being told from, and basically covers most, if not all, of "Act 2" of Dragon Age: Inquisition, meaning the stuff with the Wardens, Crestwood, The Western Approach, Adamant, The Fade and even the Winter Palace. This is basically a "What if" if Bioware hadn't had to work within certain restrictions for Hawke's Warden Ally.

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter One: Inquisitor Hector Adaar**

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Whatever expectations I had about what the Champion's Warden ally was like, they flew out the window when I finally met her. She'd known we were coming, had sensed us well before we had gotten to her cave, and was not only waiting for us, but lying in wait for us in the event our intentions were less than friendly. I'd no more than stepped through the door when suddenly a blade was poised at my throat. And not a staff blade either, but one for an actual sword. The tip was dug into my skin- if she or I had moved even slightly, I'd be dead.

As a Bas-Saarebas, there wasn't much that could intimidate me, a Qunari Knight-Enchanter, but Morgana Amell, the Hero of Fereldan, and cousin to Arthuria Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, most certainly did.

"Peace, Cousin. Inquisitor Adaar is here to help," Hawke assured her greatly more suspicious and equally famous cousin. Said cousin then withdrew her sword, resheathing it. She looked far more comfortable weilding the sword while wearing dwarven made silverite plated chainmail armor than I would have expected.

Upon seeing the two of them side by side, I could compare them in a way that none before me ever could. It was one thing to know that the two of them were cousins, it was another thing to see it in person. After all, there were no records of the two of them ever having been in the same location at the same time, except for the Battle of Ostagar, and even then, they hadn't been anywhere near each other. So this was something very, very few had ever gotten the chance to do.

Both possessed dazzling sapphire eyes and jet black hair- likely Amell traits, all things considered. However, Hawke wore her hair short, in an almost boyish sort of way. Warden-Commander Amell's hair was much longer, braided and done up into two complicated buns.

While both wore armor, Hawke's was a heavier plated variant. Where Hawe's armor was dulled and lacking in luster, Amell's silverite armor seemed to gleam brightly. Even their weapons varied from one another. Hawke wielded a massive two handed sword, whereas Amell's sword as lighter and seemingly impossibly sharp with glowing golden runes etched into the blade. I was certain I'd never seen a blade it's equal anywhere.

Both of them were undeniably beautiful as well.

However, even the way they were beautiful was different, despite the similarity between their features. The Champion of Kirkwall had a certain country girl, tomboy charm about her, whereas the Hero of Fereldan seemed to carry herself more in a lady-like fashion. Of course, aside from being Warden-Commander of Fereldan, Morgana Amell was also the Arlessa of Amaranthine and Chancellor to the Queen of Fereldan. Given all that, I suppose there was little wonder why Queen Anora had been so willing to shelter the Rebel Mages at Redcliffe. Even their personalities, on first impression, were very different. Arthuria Hawke radiated honesty and could be snarky. Morgana Amell, on the other hand, was the type of person who radiated an aura of smug superiority, as if to say she was the smartest, most dangerous person in the room. Hawke was a would be protector, Amell was a predator through and through.

"Just keeping you all on your toes," the Warden-Commander of Fereldan replied flippantly.

"I have to admit, when Hawke told me who we were coming to meet, I expected someone more..."I stated, hesitating while trying to come up with a good descriptor.

"Magely?" Morgana offered with an amused, raised eyebrow.

I wore more armor than most mages, but that didn't mean I looked the part of a seasoned warrior. Not like she did at least. If it wasn't well known that Warden-Commander Amell had come from the Kinloch Hold Circle of Magi in Fereldan, I would have never have guessed that she was a mage. "Well... Yes."

"I am what the ancient elves of Arlathan would have called an Arcane Warrior," she explained.

"Truly?" Solas asked with great surprise and a small bit of skepticism. "A true Arcane Warrior and not a Knight-Enchanter?"

Morgana snorted at that. "You'd be surprised at the lost knowledge you can find in some of the more remote places of the world, even when you aren't looking for it."

"As interesting a conversation that may be, we have more pressing issues to discuss," I interjected, not wanting the two to get lost in a conversation about old magics. I might be a mage just like them, but I was always more interested in the practical applications of magic than magical theory itself. I had the vague impression that Warden-Commander Amell was a seemingly strange mix between me and Solas.

"Yes, your Darkspawn Magister and whatever designs he has on the rest of my Order," Morgana stated.

"Hawke mentioned you had discovered corruption amongst the Warden's ranks," I stated.

"That's... One way to put it," Morgana replied cryptically. "The highest echelons of my Order are merely being manipulated. Key personel amongst the lower ranks, however, are being controlled more directly."

"How?" I inquire.

"Warden-Commander Clarel, as well as many others, are reacting to something all Grey Wardens across southern Thedas are feeling, The Calling," Morgana explained.

"And what is this... Calling...?" I ask.

Morgana laughed humorlessly. "It's how a Warden knows their time has come. The Joining is falsely called a cure for Darkspawn Taint... The Blight. In truth, it is little more than a delaying tactic. As Wardens, we take the Blight into ourselves, harnessing it, using it. Amongst other abilities, it grants us the ability to sense darkspawn. Conversely, they can also sense us. Eventually, as the Blight becomes stronger in our bodies and overtakes us, we can begin to... 'Hear' them more clearly, understand them in a sense. Not only in dreams, but even, sometimes, in our waking hours. That's when a Warden knows their end has come, their Calling. The Warden in question will then make their way to the Deep Roads, often through Orzammar, but not always, to take the fight to the darkspawn hordes until they fall in battle."

"Well, shit..." Varric mutters.

"So every Warden across Orlais and Fereldan is 'hearing' this calling and thinking they are going to die?" I ask, just to make sure I have the facts straight.

"Yes, not to put too fine of a point on it," Morgana confirms.

"Warden Blackwall, have you been experiencing this too?" I ask my Warden ally in concern. Morgana looks at Blackwall in surprise, as if noticing him for the first time.

"I do not fear The Calling," Blackwall says bravely. "It has no hold over me."

Morgana looked over my Warden companion speculatively. "Bravery or bravado, I wonder, Warden-Constable..."

"And you are certain this is the work of Corypheus?" I ask, just to make sure to cover all angles. It wasn't that I doubted her, I merely had a gut feeling that there was much she _wasn't_ telling us.

"Without a doubt. In fact, that segues into what is no doubt your next bout of questions," Morgana replies.

"The ones being directly controlled," I state, remembering what she had said a bit ago.

Morgana nodded. "Corypheus has been using a combination of blood magic and his connection to The Blight to control Warden mages directly."

"You hadn't mentioned that!" Hawke said in an angrily accusing tone.

"Given all that we have been going through, I hadn't wanted to worry you needlessly until I had no choice. You remember the state you found me in," Morgana argued.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"To completely understand, you need a full explanation. After my cousin and her friends encountered Corypheus at the old Warden prison in the Vimmark Mountains, they undoubtedly had questions. A... Mutual acquaintance of ours approached me for the information. He was the only Grey Warden my cousin knew at the time."

"Blondie..." Varric sneered in disgust.

Ignoring the dwarven author, the Warden-Commander of Fereldan forged on. "I immediately launched an investigation into him. However, if there is one thing Wardens are good at other than ending Blights and killing darkspawn, it's keeping secrets. Most of the information I had at hand was near useless and Weisshaupt was stonewalling me- no doubt in retaliation for some of the more contentious policies I put in place for my Wardens of Vigil's Keep during The Thaw. A pity that you recruited the Templar Order for your Inquisition instead of the Rebel Mages. I would have loved to have had the opportunity to pick Grand Enchanter Fiona's brain on the matter."

Before I could inquire on that tangent, Morgana waved me off.

"With Weisshaupt being less than useless, I consulted with an independent contact," She further informed us. "Despite a genuine desire to help, he, unfortunately, wasn't any more helpful than my fellow Wardens were. By that time, my love was finally back from Orlais, so I sent him up to the Free Marches to see if we could find anything else. Unfortunately, the Qunari uprising complicated that quite nicely. A check of the Warden prison was another dead end. Alistair couldn't even find Warden Larius. I'd have went myself, but I found myself bogged down on all sides by either issues with the banns of my Arling, Anora wanting my input on a couple of issues and Irving attempting to bring me back into the fold of the Circle by attempting to name me his successor. I dodged that last one by getting my friend Alim to step up."

"So you you learned nothing about Corypheus?" I asked, dismayed.

"Not nothing, just nothing useful- at the time," Morgan replied sharply. "After that, our investigation into Corypheus was left as an ongoing, non-priority mission. It wasn't until years later after Warden-Constable Howe returned from the Free Marches that we finally got a break in the investigation. The First Warden had him looking into some strange occurances during the Fourth Blight, which combined with reports I'd gotten from the Chamberlain of the Grey, painted for me a very dire picture. Warden-Archivist Velanna, meanwhile, had found a promising lead of possibly curing The Calling, so I sent her, Warden Constable Howe and Senior Wardens Theirin and Kondrat to track it down while I went to Clarel to speak to her Warden-Commander to Warden-Commander. We got into several heated discussions, particularly over the company she was keeping- namely the Magister who was helping her with a potential solution to issue of The Calling, and things became violent. To the best of my knowledge Clarel hasn't a single clue was to what she's dealing with. The Magister, on the other hand, liked to gloat whenever he thought he had the upper hand and revealed how several Warden mages were not only bound to demons, but under the control of himself and his master, The Elder One, as he attempted to forcilbly do the same to me. Unfortunately for him, I am a woman of many talents."

"First blood magic and now demons, it could be that this is how Corypheus plans to gain the demon army Envy boasted of," Solas observed.

"Maker's balls..." Blackwall cursed. "This... I can't... Blood magic, demons... How could the Wardens..."

"Anything to fight the Blight, as you should well know, Warden-Constable Blackwall," Morgana pointed out scoldingly. "Without Wardens, Blights can't be ended and there are two Old Gods- potential Archdemons- left. Clarel figures that a concentrated push into the Deep Roads will allow us to slay them before they awaken- therefore ending the last two Blights before they start."

"Some lines are not meant to be crossed," Hawke snapped. "Nothing involving blood magic or demons ever ends well."

"Tell me Cousin, since being back in Fereldan, have you visited your home village?" Morgana asked her cousin. "I have, both before and after The Blight hit it. When people speak of Blights, it's always about how the Wardens faced insurrmountable odds to overcome the monsterous Archdemon and it's evil minion darkspawn- sometimes on the backs of griffons. Little is said about the affect Blights have on the land and it's various flora and fauna. And as bad as Lothering is, it has nothing on the Anderfels, which has to be the most miserable place in all of Thedas. There is nothing more terrible in this world than The Blight, except, perhaps, for Red Lyrium."

"That aside," I interject before the argument could get anymore heated. "You have to know, no matter the justification, how bad this looks for the Wardens."

"Then I suppose this would be a bad time to mention the contingents of Wardens both Clarel and I had at Justinia's Conclave," Morgana added.

I sighed. That really wasn't wanted what I wanted to hear. "Are you saying that the Wardens, for sure, had a hand in the Divine's death?"

"Even I can't say that for sure, though it wouldn't surprise me," Morgana said with a surprising amount of compassion. "As you well know, Inquistor, Justinia's Conclave was about more than mages and templars. Everyone: Noble Houses with close ties to the Chantry, the Dalish, various Carta clans and mercenary companies- including Tal Vashoth ones like your own- sent people there. I wouldn't have been surprised there were Qunari- true Qunari in attendance as well. Is it truly shocking that the Grey Wardens would send some of our own people there? Especially given the fact that we were sheltering mages and templars who didn't want any part of the Mage/Templar War. Some Warden chapters even went as far as to involk the Rite of Conscription on mages to protect them from Templars. I can at least vouch for the person I sent- Sigrun was there more to keep an eye on Clarel's people than keep track of how the talks were going- though she was there to do that as well. Given that your Inquistion hasn't stumbled upon her by now, and the fact that she hasn't found a way to contact me or made her way to any of our set fallback locations, I can only surmise that she died at the Conclave like so many others."

"Fallback locations?" I ask curiously.

Morgana began to look smug and entirely too pleased with herself. "One of the many arguments between Clarel and I, was that I wouldn't send for any of my people to aid her in her efforts to try to deal with The Mass Calling. In the event of me having 'an accident', I sent the Fereldan Wardens to remote outposts I had established so that Clarel or one of her lackies wouldn't try to get them caught up in this madness with the Elder One without my direct say so. They are only to reveal themselves upon receiving word from myself, Alistair, Nathaniel, Queen Anora or Ser Alec, the acting Arl of Amaranthine."

"And except for the Queen of Fereldan, none of them have anything to do with the Inquisition, and even she only really supports us by allowing us to operate in her kingdom," I observed. Still, there was an opportunity here, and I wasn't one to not take advantage of it. "Would you be willing to ally your Wardens with the Inquistion?"

"Once the Elder One's control over the Wardens is broken, you'll gain me and my Wardens for the duration of the conflict with Corypheus. Until then, you're stuck with just me." She replied with a smirk.

"Help me, help you," I insisted.

"Inquisitor, I'm not just the Hero of Fereldan, I'm the woman who stopped a fucking Blight- something that has generally lasted for more than a decade, minimum- with only two other Wardens and a small group of friends in a year- one, single, solitary, fucking year. Between your army, your spies, your own collection of friends- along me and my cousin, The Champion of Fucking Kirkwall, arguably the two most bad-ass people in all of Thedas who are not you, and there is NOTHING anyone could throw at us that could even slow us down, let alone stop us. I also have to point out, that The Elder One and his Venatori minions don't need the demons to control Wardens, so I'd like to avoid losing more Wardens and Inquisition soldiers than we absolutely have to," Morgana boasted.

"I need to write that down before I forget it..." Varric mumbled.

"We'll do things your way, for now," I reply. I'd have liked to have Fereldan's Grey Wardens on hand for the coming conflict, but I could see her reasoning for not committing them to the cause just yet. The two of us clasped arms, like warrior comrades-in-arms, her grip surprisingly firm. "Let me be the first to welcome you to the Inquisition, Warden-Commander."

"The honor is mine, Lord Inquisitor," Morgana replied with a grin.


	2. The Iron Bull

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter Two: The Iron Bull**

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The Inquisition forces that had been committed to the Crestwood region were somewhat limited, but had expanded beyond the forward camp that was first established by Scout Harding. In fact, only a token group had been left at the forward camp, the rest having relocated to Caer Bronach. A group consisting of Inquisitor Adaar, Warden Blackwall, Solus and demon boy Cole had departed from the newly acquired keep and were now moving on Old Crestwood in an attempt to get underneath the greatly reduced lake to close the Rift.

Meanwhile, The Champion had moved on back to Skyhold, along with Varric, Dorian and Sera. Warden-Commander Amell, along with the Seeker and First-Enchanter Vivian, were busy organizing the keep as Red's chief lieutenant, Charter, and her people were getting settled in. I, on the other hand, was doing my best to stay out of their way. With Wardens operating in the area, everyone had agreed that Fereldan's Commander of the Grey should remain as unseen as possible by anyone not of the Inquisition for the time being. At least not until it was certain that the Wardens pursuing her were long gone.

There was a lull in the activity as Morgana, now donned in blue and black robes instead of her armor, surveyed the tavern with me.

"It's not The Vigil, but it's in surprisingly decent shape for being a home to bandits and brigands the last several years," she commented. "Nevermind having been assaulted by darkspawn before that, if the mayor is to be believed."

"I noticed that too," I agreed, taking note of the kegs in the racks. "And the ale stores are surprisingly well stocked as well."

"Pity we couldn't have recruited them as an independant mercenary company," Morgana lamented.

"Working with bandits never works out in the end," I disagreed. Having dealt with the savage Tal-Vashoth bandits in Seheron, I had a well justified dislike of those types of people.

"Normal bandit gangs, sure. But these guys were organized, professional. I suppose there's no use dwelling on it now. They could have just as easily have approached us, as we could have approached them, but now they're all dead or scattered to the four winds," Morgana replied. "They chose to die in obscurity rather than consider the possibly serving a higher purpose."

I was actually quite surprised by her response. Like everyone who'd ever heard of her, I had my own preconceived notions on what she'd be like. Especially as a Bas-Saarabas who had been declared Basalit-an by the Arishok just over a decade ago. I found her to be surprisingly practical, all things considered.

"Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am, but that almost sounded Qunari," I commented.

She merely sent a smirk. "Thank you." However, the expression didn't last long, as she let out a sigh.

"Something the matter?" I inquired.

"I hate being idle," Morgana replied. "As much as I hated the circumstances I was in at the time, I actually miss The Blight. There was always something to do back then."

I could relate. As much as I hated everything there was to hate about Seheron, it was always the downtime that was the worst. It was one thing to take a knife to the ribs when your blood was up and you were trying to kill the person knifing you. It was another to be sitting down after a hard day's work and taking a knife to the ribs when you're just trying to have a quiet moment to yourself. To this day, I still have a hard time relaxing, even if it was just me and the Chargers around.

"Speaking of The Blight... You're a real qunari."

"As opposed to the fake one running the Inquisition?" I snarked at her jokingly.

That was a mistake.

She leveled me with a glare that seemingly penetrated my very soul. "He is 'vashoth', you vashedan ass. I don't claim to be an expert on the Qun or the Qunari people, but I know more than most. When your Arishok declared me Basalit-an when he was but a Sten, I learned everything I could about his- your people. I am well aware of the difference, Sten."

'Well, Shit...' I thought in wide-eyed surprise.

For a tiny mage, she had a surprisingly commanding aura about her- something that her cousin lacked and Adaar was still developing. I have only the highest respect for the Inquisitor, how could I not? However, this tiny human woman could, at the very least, make me think about following her over him. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all that the Arishok followed the Hero of Fereldan around for a year, just another soldier for her cause, despite the fact that she was both a woman and a mage, on top of being a Bas. It says something when a decorated member of the Beresaad, the man who would become Arishok when that same Bas-Saarabas' kin would slay his predecessor, would go against everything he had ever known and learned through out his entire life to take up arms in the service to another.

Also, it had been a long time since I'd received a dressing down like that. Even Vivian's scolding of me and condescending gaze hadn't left me feeling so completely emasculated and this Bas-Saarabas was lacking both the heels and the horned hat that brought to mind the tamassrans whenever I talked to the First Enchanter. Hell, she wasn't even armed or armored.

I cleared my throat. "Err... Sorry, ma'am."

"Think nothing of it, Bull. Having worked with a Sten of the Beresaad during the Blight, I have nothing but the highest respect for your people. To be honest, it's a bit of a relief to me that you're a true Qunari, rather than a Tal-Vashoth mercenary, even if you are Ben Hassrath," Morgana replied, her mood seemingly doing an about face.

"Really? Not even the Boss was this accepting of me when I first told him," I told her.

"He's a Vashoth who grew up around Tal-Vashoth and other Vashoth like him. I doubt the stories he's heard about the Qunari are any more complimentary than the ones the rest of us get fed by the Chantry," she pointed out. "The only difference being, that his parents have the benefit of being the voices of expirience, having actually lived under the Qun and know what it's about and had ultimately rejected it."

"That's a pretty good point. But still, out of everyone I've ever told, the only other person to give me total acceptance right off the bat was Krem," I informed her.

Morgana merely shrugged. "Between being a Grey Warden and the prejudice I face as a mage, I try to take individuals as they are. You have yet to give me a reason to dislike or disrespect you. Until you do, I won't. Plus, other than that unpleasantness at The Vigil involving Dworkin, I have yet to be attacked by a real Qunari. As far as I know anyway. On the other hand, I've left behind trails of bodies of Tal-Vashoth in my travels."

"I gotta say, it's kinda weird talking to a Bas that actually knows and acknowledges the difference. Most people, even most Viddathari, would look at a Vashoth like the Inquisitor and call him Qunari," I admit.

"I owe too much to your Arishok not to. He was the first person to start teaching me how to use a sword," Morgana admitted in turn.

"I had wondered," I acknowledge. "Watching you kill those bandits when we first took the keep, I noticed a mix of Dalish, Qunari, and Templar influences in your style."

"A mix between having been taught by Alistair and Sten and the way I learned to how to become an Arcane Warrior," She informed me. "I wouldn't be surprised if you could spot similar influences in either Alistair's or the Arishok's own personal fighting styles if you ever saw them fight. The three of us, along with Oghren, a dwarven berserker, and Zevran, a former Antivan Crow, were constantly training each other in our various combat styles."

"I take it your Crow friend explains the flourishes in your style I couldn't identify," I openly speculate having never faced off against a member of the Antivan Crows. I've taken great pains over the years to not be important enough to be a target of either them or Orlais' House of Repose.

The Warden nodded her head. "I never did take well to Oghren's style. Despite his drunkeness, he is a remarkable warrior, but he's a horrible instructor. Anything Alistair and Sten got out of him was more due to their own skill in observing how he fought than any sort of ability he had to teach. Despite him becoming a Warden after The Blight, I had to call in Ash Warriors for anyone desiring training as a Berserker."

I let out a chuckle. "I used to be the same."

"Oh, what changed?" Morgana asked with great interest.

"I met Krem," I reply honestly. "A lot of things about me changed when I met him."

"Friends like that are hard to come by and last a lifetime, no matter what life throws at you. I think I'd like to meet him when we get to Skyhold," Morgana stated. She looked at me speculatively, as if taking my full measure. I didn't like it, but I did not turn away from her gaze. Given her expression of approval, I reckon I passed some sort of test. "I suppose your list is quite long."

"I don't follow, ma'am," I reply with genuine confusion.

"After the Blight was over and Nora had declared me 'The Hero of Fereldan' at her coronation as Queen, Sten had admitted that he didn't fully understand the title of 'Hero' and what it meant, but figured the closest Qunari equivalent was 'Qunoran Vehl'." I gave her a look of surprise as she continued on. "Not that I could ever be called such, given the whole, 'survived the Blight and slaying the Archdemon' thing, lest I become too prideful." We both shared a laugh at that. "We then made a mutual oath to each other that should the Qunari people invade, that we would not seek each other out on the battlefield." She then looked me straight in the eye with those entrancing blue eyes that saw so much more than I could ever imagine. "I imagine you have quite a long list of people you will not seek to kill in the event that you return to your people and invade us."

This time I did break her gaze. The topic was hitting far too close to home. Even worse, she knew it and, I suspect, she even knew why.

She changed the subject.

"You think Hector will allow us to slay the dragon?" she asked.

"Who?" I asked.

"Adaar," She replied with an eye roll.

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard his name out loud," I say thinking back. "Most people tend to call him 'Adaar', 'Inquisitor', or 'Herald'. Or in my case, 'Boss'."

Morgana sighed. "It's like he's not even a person."

"To most people, he's not," I say with a shrug. "I'd figure you of all people would know that better than anyone."

"We are more than our titles," She stated distastefully.

"You know that and I know that and I'm sure the Boss does too. But to the hundreds of soldiers, spies and diplomats out there working for the Inquisition... You two are a symbol, an ideal. The ones whose example the rest of us common folk have to live up to," I sagely reply.

"That's probably the one way the Qunari for sure have it easier than the rest of Thedas," Morgana says with a frown. At my questioning expression, she explains. "Like Heroes, Qunoran Vehl stand out as examples of how people should be. But the Heroes, the ones who survive passed their fated purpose... They have to live up to that example."

It was my turn to sigh. "We are far too sober for this conversation."

She looked at my speculatively. "We are in the tavern."

"The Seeker and Viv are gonna be pissed," I uncharacteristically feel the need to point out.

"We'd be too drunk to care," The Warden-Commander says in rebuttal as she walks around the bar and begins searching behind it.

"They're probably gonna make us regret it once we sober up," I state, feeling a sense of wrongness that I'm trying, though only half heartedly, to talk her out of getting us both completely and totally sloshed.

Morgana grins in triumph as she places two empty and surprisingly clean steins on the bar. "I'm game if you are."

"What the hell," I give in.


	3. Sister Nightingale, Leliana

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter Three: Sister Nightingale, Leliana**

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I am all aflutter with anticipation. It had been such a long time since I'd seen my old friend face to face, and now she was coming to Skyhold! It was all I could do to not fidget in anticipation, as letters could only say so much. I kept a watchful eye out, waiting and watching for any sign of the Inquisitor's party from the balcony of the rookery. We had so much to talk about, so much to catch up on.

When I finally did catch a glimpse of them, I nearly squealed. Taking a deep breath, I centered myself. It was surprising how easily I had reverted to a me from a simpler time. I was less, Sister Nightingale, Left Hand of the Divine and Seneschal of the Inquisition and more Sister Leliana, Bardic Friend of the Warden and Chief Competitor for her Affections.

I sighed in bittersweet rememberance.

While she did, ultimately, choose Alistair, the two of us had shared several heartfelt and passionate moments together and on one occassion, the night before the Landsmeet where we deposed Loghain Mac Tir from his position as Queen Anora's Regent, we even shared Alistair between ourselves and a rivaini pirate captain. I have to admit, if it wasn't for the strength of Ana's Force of Personality, I might have made a play for Alistair myself. As it was, the two of us had been so besotted with her from the very beginning, each vying for a dominate place in her heart, that neither one of us had taken notice of one other.

Not until THAT night at least.

Perhaps if I'd been wiser back then, the three of us could have entered into an unusual, but caring relationship beyond the one liaison we'd shared. A true menage a trios. After all, with as sweet and gentlemanly as Alistair was back in those days, he couldn't have denied Morgana anything. Both she and I working together to make a concerted effort into getting through all those years and years of Chantry indoctrination... The lucky man wouldn't have stood a chance. He wouldn't have wanted to, though I had little doubt he'd have put up a formidable resistance, at first.

Jusy thinking about THAT night made me want to fan myself, despite the nearly ever present chill in the air. How Iron Bull could talk around without a shirt on, I've never been able to figure out. Luckily, I could blame the mountain chill for the flush on my cheeks, rather than my own enflamed passions. While I was not ashamed of what had happened that night or my lingering feelings about it, I had a reputation to maintain and it had been over a decade since we'd been together. She and Alistair had been with each other emotionally for all of it, if not physically. I highly doubted they had room for me in their lives in that way after all this time.

Life, as it always did, had taken us all in different directions.

Morrigan had left us first. She had disappeared long before the Archdemon's body was even cold. As glad as we all were for her absence, none of us, not even Alistair, could take pleasure in it, due to the melancholy that had overtaken Ana when she vanished.

Wynne and Shale were the next to go and had left us immediately after the Coronation to travel. Oghren had gone then as well, but he was staying in Denerim to join the Queen's army and make a life with Felsi.

And so it was, two days after the Queen's Coronation, that Morgana, Alistair, Zevran and I had set off on a ship with Sten to make our way across the Waking Sea to travel with him to Par Vollen. Unfortunately, we had only made it as far as the Free Marches when our little fellowship had been broken up. Ana had been recalled to Fereldan to take command of a group of Orlesian Grey Wardens who had taken residence in Vigil's Keep the seat of power within the Arling of Amaranthine and former residence of Rendon Howe. Apparently, the Darkspawn in the area were behaving oddly and they wanted to brief their new Commander on the situation and figure out what to do from there.

Sten had continued on his journey home by himself. Alistair, too, went his own way- heading towards the Anderfels with a sealed chest, the contents of which I was one of the priviledged few to know of. With Zevran unwilling to put any of us in danger by traveling alone with us, he disappeared to parts unknown and I was left at loose ends- which is how I found myself back in Valence with Mother Dorothea, the future Divine Justinia V.

Shaking off the memories, I made my way down to the courtyard. I had to physically restrain myself from skipping, so powerful was the joy that filled my heart. It was if a piece of me that I didn't know was missing, was suddenly restored. I paused, however, when I saw the Commander- Cullen- walking down the stairs closest to his quarters. Apparently, he'd had the same idea I had, to meet Ana down in the courtyard entrance- though he had a troubled look on his face.

My heart went out to him.

While Alistair and I had shared a requitted attraction to the Warden-Commander from the very moment we each had met her, Cullen had been the one who held her affections, something we had been unaware of at the time, though as I look back in hindsight, it was quite obvious.

The one question that had plagued us as we were prepared to set off from Lothering was which Grey Warden Treaty to pursue first. Seeing as the dwarves weren't going anywhere and we'd not had a single clue as to where we could contact a trible of Dalish, our most pressing issues were the Arl of Redcliff's illness and the fact that Kinloch Hold had gone on lockdown- with all sorts of rumors flying about as to why it had. Alistair had desired to go immediately to Redcliffe; Ana, to the Circle Tower.

The deciding argument was that no matter the cause of the Arl's illness, neither she nor Morrigan were practicularly accomplished healers. Both knew the basics, of course, but the Arl would likely need more than the basics if the Arlessa was desperate enough to chase after old wives' tales and legends in an effort to cure her husband. Short of going back to the Korcari Wilds and employing Morrigan's mother, which Morgana, Morrigan and Alistair all unanimously agreed would be a wasted effort, their best option for healers would be Senior Enchanter Wynne- provided she somehow managed to survive the Battle of Ostagar; Mage Anders- provided the Circle was willing to let the almost guaranteed flight risk out of the tower, given that he had not only escaped from the Circle on six seperate occassions, but he had even started writing up performance reviews on the Templars sent after him, critiquing their efforts to capture him, much to the amusement of First Enchanter Irving and the irriation of Knight-Commander Gregoir; Mage Finn, who was vehemently opposed to going out doors- so much so that the Templars had to force him outside for daily exercise, until Anders' third escape from the Circle, when he swam across the lake during the daily exercise and that particular activity had been dropped completely; and Apprentice Surana, Irving's OTHER apprentice.

As our sextet- quintet if you didn't count Barkspawn (which Ana generally insisted we did) got closer and closer to the tower, and the rumors got more and more disturbing, Ana had become more and more distressed. At the time, we had assumed that it was because of the dire circumstances that her home (prision, if you asked Morrigan) had found itself in. Even still, Ana's determination to salvage whatever we could from whatever situation the Circle of Magi had found itself in had shown through. Despite this, we could all tell that she was barely holding herself together, so desperate was she to get home just to figure out what in the Maker's name had happened.

It wasn't until we'd gotten near to the top of the tower (the bottom of the stairwell leading up to the top floor, in fact) that I finally had pieced together exactly why Morgana had been so desperate to get back to the Circle. Alone in a cage of formed of pure magic was a young templar, Cullen Rutherford, who had obviously undergone torture- mostly of the mental and emotional kind, though I had observed that some physical torture had been endured by him as well.

"C-Cullen..." Morgana gasped, the field rippling as she touched it.

The expression on her face was like a punch to my gut. I was actually glad in that moment that Alistair and Morrigan had been left behind with Knight-Commander Gregoir. Alistair's heart would have broken much like mine felt like it was doing at the sight of it. And I didn't even want to think about what Morrigan's reaction to Ana having feelings for one of her jailers would have been. Descreetly checking Sten and Wynne's reactions, I was unsurprised by Sten's disapproving frown. Even to this day, I honestly couldn't understand why he stuck around back then. Wynne's reaction, however, DID surprise me. Wynne's expression was not one of either surprise or reproach, but one of pitying understanding.

Unfortunately, what happened next, had made me forever regret my jealousy of the templar in that brief moment.

"No! I will remain strong. I will not break!" Cullen had desperately vowed. "I will not allow you tempt me with the one thing I've always wanted, yet could never have... Using my shame against me..."

The conversation had only gotten more uncomfortable from there. Her pleading, begging- rather desperately even- him to come to his senses, with him repudiating her, and rather harshly at that. Even after he was finally half convinced that Ana was real and not the illusion of temptation that had been repeatedly used against him, the conversation hadn't gotten any better. If anything, it had taken a down turn as he demanded we destroy all the mages up there, regardless of their complicity in what had happened to the Tower.

Ana had returned to the Circle Tower explicitly for the sole purpose of ensuring that Cullen was alright, regardless of any reasoning she might have fed given to our merry band of adventurers, and rescuing him if need be. And there she was, on the cusp of doing just exactly that and she was being forced to choose between the man she had given her affections to, affections that had apparently been returned, if not acted upon and the innocent victims of Uldred's uprising. In that moment, Morgana had hardened her heart and had decided on the course of action they were going to take as she tightly gripped her staff in her off hand.

"I... I'm sorry Cullen, but I will not do as you ask."

Then and there, I had witnessed first hand the beginning of the transformation of Ana, the brilliant and naively sweet and shy Circle Mage into the hardened Morgana Amell, future Blight-Queller and Commander of the Grey of Fereldan, the occasionally cold and almost constantly calculating and highly obsessive, almost destructively so, battle-mage who would be capable of felling an Ogre while barely sparing it a single thought. That would come later, however, as in that particular moment, Morgana had wished to make her ire known to a certain Pride Abomination formerly known as Uldred.

Sten, Wynne and I all had to rush to keep up with her as she made her way to confront Uldred, who we had found waiting for us.

"Hello, Mouse," Morgana said in greeting. I wondered if it was a nickname for the Senior Enchanter turned Abomination, but the confusion on Wynne's face said it wasnn't so.

The Mage Formerly Known as Uldred barely got a word in edgewise, when he had been struck with a boulder to his ribs that would have most certainly have killed someone NOT possessed by a demon.

The following battle had left many in awe, myself included, as she attacked the pride demon with nearly single minded purpose, while using the Litany of Ardalla to weaken it while protecting the Fist Enchanter and his remaining apprentice, Alim Surana, amongst others, whose names I never caught.

Once Uldred had been slain, Cullen had stormed his way into the Harrowing chamber, demanding that we destroy the remaining mages while they were weak.

"That is enough, Cullen!" Morgana stated with cold fury, stepping between Irving and Alim and Cullen, glaring him into submission. "No more mages will die today. Not by my hand and certainly NOT by yours."

Alim and many of the others could only stare in wide-eyed awe of her as Ana stood up to Cullen, leveling him with a silent ultimatum that if he attempted to not do as she demanded, that she would personally see him dealt with. Cullen turned on his heal, leaving them alone with the few survivors of Uldred's depravity.

"Child, you..." Irving had started to say, only to be interupted by his former apprentice.

"Don't! Just... Don't, First Enchanter," Morgana demanded tiredly and, judging from the looks on all the mages' faces, with an uncharacteristic tone of formality. "You, Gregoir and this damned tower have already taken enough from me and I'd sooner request to be made Tranquil or join the Loyalist Fraternity before I have anything to do with you not related to you saying, 'Yes Warden Amell, I and the rest of this cursed Circle will be more than happy to aid you with the Blight since you just got done saving our asses today'!"

"Morgana Am-!" Wynna began in an attempt to scold our Warden leader.

However, Morgana was having none of it. "Today could have avoided if he'd been on the look out for actual maleficar, rather than gleefully sacrificing Jowan and Lily to get a leg up on Gregoir!"

"He was a blood mage," Irving argued.

"No, Uldred was a blood mage! Jowan was a curious fool who fell for a Chantry Sister!" Morgana ranted, "I won't deny that he likely dabbled in it, but let's face it; given what you had tasked Uldred to do, it was probably he who had brought Jowan to your's and Gregoir's attention right before he left for Ostagar and, just as likely, he was the person who introduced Jowan to blood magic in the first place! Not that either you or Gregoir actually gave a damn about any of the pertinent details, as the Knight-Commander would have been able to get the credit for rooting out a budding Maleficar before it could do any real damage right under your very nose and you would would get to embarass the Chantry and, by extension, Gregoir, for revealing that a Chantry Sister had not only betrayed her vows for a mage, but a blood mage to boot. You win, Gregoir wins, everybody fucking wins, except for Jowan who had been manipulated, betrayed and made tranquil, if he wasn't given the mercy of death, and Lily, who would hava to live with her shame and self-disgust in The Aeonar for the crime of having fallen in love with an idiot, an idiot who was my best friend and brother in all but blood!"

"Mor-" Irving tried to say, but he was cut off once more by the future Warden-Commander.

"The sooner we get back down the stairs to tell Gregoir everything has been taken care of, the less time the Rite of Annulment has the chance to arrive," Morgana stated imperiously. The rest of the mages who were not Irving, who was looking ashamed or Wynne, who was fuming at Morgana, looked distinctly uncomfortable with how their former compatriot had aired out the Circle's dirty laundry as she had. "And the sooner I can go back to saving the world from darkspawn."

"Commander," I heard Inquistor Adaar say to Cullen in concern, pulling me out of my memories. "Is something wrong? It's not like you to meet me out here at the gate."

"Ah, no, Lord Inquisitor, I..." Cullen said sheepishly, not having taken into account how his uncharacteristic behavoir might be interptreted.

"Cullen!?" exclaimed Morgana excitedly. "Maker's breath! It is you! It's been ages since we'd last seen each other!"

"I... Wasn't exactly at my best then, Warden-Commander," Cullen replied, skirting around what his reaction had been at the time.

I took in the astonished looks on the other's faces, smirking at them. No doubt she was different around them, than she was The Commander. They'd likely never saw any hint of this side of her- and possibly never would, not directed at them at least, unless they managed to gain her trust and respect, much like those who had traveled with her during the Blight or those served under her at The Vigil.

"Cullen, you're one of the last people here that needs to stand on formality with me," she scolded playfully.

"To be fair, I wasn't sure how you'd react to seeing me again," Cullen replied honestly.

She looked away from him sadly. "You were hardly the only one not at their best that day. My relationship with the Old Man was never the same after that. But as a wise friend of mine once said, 'either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret'."

"Truer words," Cullen replied. "Still, I'd like the chance to put one regret behind me, if at all possible."

"I forgave you a long time ago," Morgana assured him.

"I still feel like some things need to be said," Cullen firmly stated.

"Allow me to get settled in and we'll talk," Morgana acquiesced. Cullen nodded his agreement.

I caught the Inquisitor's eye and motioned him towards me.

"What is that about?" Inquistor Adaar inquired.

I thought about what I should and would tell him. "They... They were each other's first loves, but circumstances tragically kept them apart and many things were said and left unresolved between them."

I was relieved when The Inquisitor simply nodded and didn't press further. I was already uncomfortable with the little bit I had revealed.

"Leli..." Morgana said breathlessly as she spotted me with The Inquisitor. There was seemingly a huskiness to her voice that I wasn't entirely certain was mere wishful thinking on my part.

"Ana..." I replied in kind, the two of us pulling each other into a tight hug. The kiss on the cheek, near the corner of my mouth was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I had to remind myself that she was taken- that as much as my heart was her's, her's wasn't mine as I extracted myself from her arms. I was also extra thankful that the sun had began to set and that my blush was not so easily visible.

"Maker... Is there anyone else around here that I know so I'm not caught off guard?" Morgana asked looking back and forth between me and the Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor replied, his statement directed at me. "You'd know better than I would."

I thought it over for a moment. "Dagna, who is usually down in the Undercroft and... Harding, who spends most of her time at the Herald's Rest when she's here. Maybe a couple of the rank and file soldiers that came from Amaranthine, Highever and Denerim."

"Thanks, Leli," Morgana said gratefully.

"We can talk more once you've gotten settled in. Josie's got someone waiting for you in the Great Hall to take you to your quarters," I informed her. She gifted me with a smile that warmed me and I watched her leave up the stairs.

"It looks like Cullen isn't the only one with unresolved business with the Warden-Commander," The Inquisitor observed, to my own mortification.

"It is nothing. Her heart already belongs to another, Lord Inquisitor," I firmly state in as neutral a tone as possible. "And whatever is left between us will not interfere in my duties here."

"If you want to talk, my door is open," He offers, clearly not believing that what was between myself and Ana was completely platonic. I wasn't sure I believed it either, but I wasn't entirely certain how much of that was actual fact and how much was hopeful thinking on my part. "By your leave, Lord Inquisitor."

Inquisitor Adaar nodded his permission as I made my way back up to the rookery to prepare myself for my next encounter with Morgana Amell.


	4. Warden Blackwall

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter Four: "Warden Blackwall"**

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I had tiredly settled in for the night. I hadn't been sleeping well for the last several days. Most everyone in the Inquisition was happy, esctatic even, that Warden-Commander Amell was joining us. She was a living legend, the woman who slayed the Archdemon, amongst other lofty accomplishments.

Most people weren't me, however.

I wasn't who I said I was. I was a man seeking atonement, who walked around using another man's name to hide myself from my own shame. It was fortunate for me that Warden Blackwall, the true Blackwall, had been on a recruiting tour and was often out of easy contact, as it allowed me to assume his identity when he died rather effortlessly. Only now, what little I had left was in danger of falling to peices.

Much like assuming Warden Blackwall's identity, it was easy to fake being a Grey Warden. Most people didn't know much about them. Despite the many hits my esteem of them had taken recently, I had to admit that Warden-Commander Amell had a point, Wardens were proficient at keeping secrets. Only now there was someone who actually knew the secrets that I allegedly knew myself. My story was only still holding up because while she knew of Corypheus (which was certainly more than I knew), she hadn't known much more about him than anyone else did as Wardens apparently kept secrets from other Wardens. Still, it was likely only a matter of time before the truth about me was revealed.

My dour thoughts were interupted by a knock on the barn door. I looked up and spotted the catalyst of my self contemplation- Morgana Amell.

I immediately shot up. "Commander, what can I do for you!?"

"At ease, Constable- or do you prefer Lieutenant?" Warden-Commander Amell asked me. "I'm just here to talk. Order business."

"I'm not big on formalities," I honestly answer as I deflect the question, at ill ease as to where this conversation might go. It was obvious that the Wardens had some sort of hierarchy, though, like many others, I was unaware of what that hierarchy was. Blackwall was apparently someone of significant rank if he was known to the Fereldan Warden-Commander.

"I figured as much, but I also figured I could at least do you the courteousy of asking," Amell replied.

"I apprectiate it, Commander," I tell her. "Whatever you wish to call me is fine."

The Warden-Commander shrugged. "I appreciate that, Blackwall. Many Orlesian Wardens seem to get caught up in fussing over rank and formalities, so I try not to deal with them overmuch. It seems to get worse the higher up in rank they get and with you being a Warden-Constable... I wasn't sure if you didn't react because you're more reasonable than many of your contemporaries or because you'd wished to discuss the matter in private."

"I tend to think of myself as a reasonable sort," I reply with a smile, becoming more at ease with her.

She smirked. "Most people do, regardless of reality."

"The Orlesian Army isn't much different, truth be told," I inform her.

"Oh, did you serve?" she inquired.

"For a time, until the politics drove me away," I somewhat truthfully admit.

"Ah, yes, 'The Grand Game'," Amell said mockingly in disgust. "If you were of high enough rank to have to deal with that, I can see why you would join the Wardens. Even as bad as our internal politics can get, it is nothing compared to the viper's nest that is the Orlesian Nobility."

"I'm not one for politics myself. Hate it to be perfectly honest," I tell her.

"From your lips, to our Lady's ears," Amell replied with a smile. "Politics is what got me temporarily saddled one of your contemporaries, Warden-Lieutenant Gerod Caron, who had an opinion on everything I had done or decided."

"Ah, one of those." I say commiseratingly.

"Yeah," She agreed.

"How'd you get stuck with him?" I inquire, my curiousity piqued.

"It was during The Thaw. I was requested to handle a sensitive matter for the Dwarven Merchant's Guild based out of Denerim. Alistair, my first choice for my Warden-Constable, still wasn't back from the Anderfels, having been temporarily been put on assignment in Orlais, so I had appointed Nathaniel Howe, son of the late Arl Rendon Howe, to be my second-in-command. Given that Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep had been his childhood home and that he was raised by an Arl, I figured him to be the perfect person to be left in charge," Amell said, informing me of her reasoning at the time. I wondered what had made her trust him, given that the Commander was the one who had killed Rendon Howe and gotten the Howe family stripped of their titles and property. "Weisshaupt disagreed. They felt it was bad form to allow Nate any sort of temptation to take back his families' legacy in my absense- nevermind that none of the other Warden-Acolytes would have stood for it if he'd tried, which I trusted him not to do. Over my objections, they sent Caron to act as the interim Commander of the Grey and Arl of Amaranthine while I was alone on assignment in the Deep Roads. It was probably a good thing I sent Velanna away, as she'd have likely have killed him within five seconds of meeting him. As it was, there was an incident between him and Justice which saw Anders leaving us for the Free Marches. Needless to say, I was not pleased when I returned and I booted him from the Fortress and had both him and Mistress Woosley escorted straight to the border by soldiers of the Queen's Army. I then proceeded to hire on Nate's sister Delilah as our accountant and left him in charge as I went on a personal mission with my faithful mabari."

"Anders... THE Anders!" I say in surprise. Like many others, I was aware that Anders was a Fereldan Grey Warden mage, but Fereldan Grey Warden always seemed like a secondary designation overshadowed by the fact that he was a mage.

"Yes, THE Anders. He was a Warden under my command before he became a refugee Healer working out of Kirkwall's Darktown where he met my cousin. It was him, Arty, her sister Bethany and Varric who had initially encountered Corypheus. It was also how we first learned that Corypheus could control Wardens, as he'd briefly managed to take control of Anders," Amell informed me.

"Maker's balls..." I said in shock.

"That was my thought on it too," Amell replied.

"Do you think that was why he...?" I ask. The tragedy in Kirkwall that had sparked the Mage/Templar War was horrifying. I couldn't imagine anyone, not even a Warden... Especially a Warden, being capable of it. Knowing that Anders had once been under the thrall of The Elder One... Well it wasn't a comforting thought, but it did make it an easier pill to swallow that a Grey Warden, even if he was a mage, could do something as horrifying as blowing up a Chantry, murdering it's Grand Cleric.

"No." Amell stated firmly. "While the Anders I knew wouldn't have been capable of it, he'd changed when he left The Vigil. What happened in Kirkwall... That was all him."

I was surprised by how sad she sounded then. When people speak of Anders, it's either usually as some sort of crazed madman, an anti-Chantry anarchist or as a revolutionist visionary, the solitary figure that was willing to do what needed to be done in an effort to affect real change against the Templars and the Chantry. The only people who didn't, I realized, were those who actually knew him.

Varric, when he would talk about him, seemed to hate the man greatly. There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone that spoke loudly of resentment and loathing. With Warden-Commander Amell, there was sadness and regret. I only knew of Anders as this legendary figure, someone who was used as a symbol on both sides of the Mage/Templar conflict for different reasons. It was hard to believe that there were people out that who actually knew him and were his friends, let alone people like the Champion of Kirkwall or the Hero of Fereldan. Most would have considered themselves lucky to have ever have met one or the other, yet he'd not only had known both of them, he'd been close to them as well.

The Warden-Commander smiled tiredly at me. "Hard to believe isn't it."

"A little," I admitted with a small smile of my own. "So what did you come to see me about? Because I'll warn you now, I was out of the loop for much of what the Order was doing. I didn't start making my way back to civilization until after the Divine's death and hadn't even known the others had gone into seclusion until I met the Inquisitor south of Redcliffe."

"That happens, but as it turns out, what I have to ask about, you're uniquely suited to answer," Amell said, before trusting her arm out. My entire body went rigid and I felt as if a great pressure had come over my whole body, as if I was about to be crushed.

"What...!?" I started to ask, however the pressure increased and I found it hard to talk.

"Ah, ah! I talk, you listen," Amell playfully scolded me. It was then I noticed the cut on her palm and my eyes widened in fear and recognition. Blood magic. She smirked at me in amusement, as if my fear was somehow entertaining to her and she let out a small chuckle. "What was it that I told Solas I brought to the Inquisition when he asked? I am a student-practioner of Forgotten and Exotic Arts and the Foremost Expert on the Blight in all of Thedas, is what I told him correct? Of course it is. I all but spelled it out for everyone right then and there, that I practice blood magic. After all, the Blight is in our... My blood and blood magic is a rather exotic, though forbidden, art."

She twitched her hands and my feet came off the ground. I was at her mercy and she knew it. She'd gotten me comfortable and caught me off guard. Worse, I suspected she knew my secret and I was going to die for it. After all, I couldn't think of any other reason that she would reveal that she was a blood mage to me.

"So tell me, not-Blackwall, who are you? What is your purpose here?" She asked, confirming that she knew who I wasn't even if she didn't know who I was. Worse, she was likely thinking I was a spy for Corypheus.

"I... I..." I attempted to speak out, but it took supreme effort to do so. Her fingers twitched once more and I couldn't even manage that.

"Funny thing about Wardens. We use a blood magic ritual to take the Darkspawn taint into our bodies. Since you're not a real Warden, I'll not bother you with the details. Just know that it connects us to The Blight. It's what makes us and us alone to capable of killing an Archdemon. It takes more than just putting the pointy end of your sword into it, though it does certainly help," Amell monologued. "Given that I was the one who killed Urthemial, I think we can safely assume I know what I'm talking about there. I bet you're wondering why I'm going into all of that. Well it's simple, when Grey Wardens take in the Taint, those of us who survive our Joining are able to sense Darkspawn. Its one of the few talents we gain as Wardens. Some of us who are more sensitive or are Blight Wardens- Wardens who survived our Joining during a Blight, can sense more. We can sense how many there are in an area, some of us are even capable of identifying a darkspawn variant by merely sensing it through the taint without even laying eyes on it. The longer one is a Grey Warden, the closer we get to our Calling, a true Calling, not the poor facsimile Corypheus is forcing on us, the stronger this talent becomes. Many become capable of sensing ghouls. A very select few, usually those who are succumbing to the taint themselves, are even able to sense blighted creatures and other Wardens."

"But me, I stand apart from all others. It's how I can tell with absolute certainty that The Mass Calling is a false one. I'm not just sensitive to the Taint, I'm not just a Blight Warden, I'm someone who has had the potential in their blood unlocked. I'm the first and only Warden to have survived killing an Archdemon," Amell explained. "My abilities are so much more than any other Warden in the history of our entire Order. I knew from the very moment that Inquisitor Adaar identified you as a Warden that you were not who you claimed to be. So... 'Blackwall', you're going to tell me everything. Who you are, why you're here, and what happened to the REAL Warden-Constable Blackwall. And be warned, if you lie to me, I will know and what I do to you will not be painless." She then release me and I dropped down to the ground on my hands and knees.

I looked up towards the Warden-Commander in fear. "My... My name is Thom Rainier..."

I tell her eveything: my name, what I had done, how I met the real Blackwall and how he died- something about that had caught her attention- and how I used his name and helped out isolated, outlying villages in Fereldan and Orlais as a form of penance for the wrongs I had committed. All the while she looked at me impassively, not interupting, not judging me. When I was done, I felt drained. Strangely, while I was still tormented by the action I'd taken in my past, I felt lighter, unburdened by it. Warden-Commander Amell was silent, leaning against a wall and thinking over what she'd learned from me.

"So where do we go from here?" I asked tiredly, resigned to some terrible fate.

"I keep your secret," She answered. "Regardless of your past, you're a good person. One who made a terrible, and perhaps unforgivable, mistake. But still a good person."

"How could you say that, after what I did!?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Because if you were the monster you thought you were, you wouldn't feel the guilt and remorse you obviously feel," she pointed out. "You wouldn't have been out in the middle of the wilderness teaching peasants how to protect themselves from bandits as a form of penance. Because if things had gone differently, you might have ended up as one of my Warden brothers under my command."

"Why would you take in a murderer like me? Wardens are supposed to be heroes. Those who are forever vigilant against the greatest of evils ever known. Who sacrifice everything for a world that would never fully appreciate it," I said passionately. It was primarily why I had pretended so long to be a Warden, so that I could pretend to be a man who was so much more than I was, could ever be as myself.

"Because in spite of your past actions, more Wardens should be like you. You're not even a Warden and you're better than a great many of them have ever been," she argued. "You think you're the only murderer amongst our ranks. The only one who promoted mass slaughter and killed innocents? Children? You're at least repentant. It took many years for Velanna, a woman I personally recruited, to admit, reluctantly, that she had been wrong to kill the people she had. To this day, though she has since let go of the hatred she felt for humans, she still doesn't feel guilty for what she did."

"Are any of the Wardens the heroes people think they are?" I asked her, deeply saddened by what she just told me. Wardens summoning demons, the Hero of Fereldan being a blood mage and the fact that there could be Wardens out there who were remorseless killers... My perception of the Order was tarnished.

Warden-Commander Amell smiled at me. To say it was a pretty smile, would be to do it a disservice. It was beautiful, radiant even. It easily lifted my spirits. "Let me tell you about Alistair Theirin..."


	5. Lord Dorian Pavus

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter Five: Lord Dorian Pavus**

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One thing that has always impressed me about the Inquisition ever since we settled in Skyhold is the full breadth of the knowledge that could be found in the library, though I had to learn which authors to avoid due to being little more than Chantry mouthpeices and which were actually reliable.

By far the most reliable author, inspite of his being a Southern Chantry Brother, in cultural studies was Brother Genitivi. If only other scholars, both northern and southern, could set aside their beliefs and give a logical, factual accounts of things. It's part of why I quit looking for magical primers in the library. Most were over half way full of garbage religious rhetoric.

I was reading Genitivi's final work, the one he wrote before his mysterious disappearance, about the Temple of Sacred Ashes, when I felt a pair of eyes on me. Looking up from my book, I spotted the Hero of Ferelden looking down on me with an smused smirk on her face. "Can I help you?"

"Just thought I'd get myself a look at the 'good' Tevinter," Morgana replied.

Despite myself, I laughed. I then asked, my voice full of humor, "They don't actually call me that, do they?"

"A few people do. You've got quite the niche following," she commented as she sat down in the chair across from mine. "Mostly young girls who are drawn to either the overly romaticized rebel thing you have going on or one who are looking for ways to rebel against their fathers."

"Forget Ancient Tevinter Magister Darkpawn hellbent on destroying the world, there is nothing more perilous than being the subject of idle teenage girl fantasies," I say mockingly.

"As a former idle teenage girl I can assure you it's worse than you realize," she replied.

I shudder dramatically. "That thought will keep me up at night."

"To be fair, the mages who have joined the Inquisition are all looking for someone to look up to, but their choices are not people whom most would first consider heroes," Morgana said to me. "You're a Tevinter and despite how outspoken you are against blood magic and the Venatori, that's still enough to make people wary of you. Though that has been lessening over time. Solus is a brilliant mage and not just for a hedge mage. He could give some First Enchanters and Keepers I've met a run for their money interms of knowledge and utility. But he mostly sticks to himself and the way he utilizes the fade and talks to spirits puts them off. And as for Viv..."

I snort in an attempt to hold back my laughter. "You know she hates it when you call her that."

"As for Viv," Morgana pressed on, though she shot me a knowing smirk. "While she is able to provide a measure of stability and continuity, she was a First Enchanter after all, her assertations of being the leader of the 'last loyal mages' in all of Thedas has alienated more mages than she and her cohorts have brought in. I know a number of Senior Enchanters who's beliefs actually run parallel to what she says she believes, but they refused to join her during the Mage/Templar conflict and refused to join the Inquisition because of her until Leli's people descreetly let them know I was here." She then laughed. "It's funny in a way it shouldn't be because each of those groups were all die hard Aequitarians and I'm, for all intents and purposes, a very outspoken Libertarian."

"Ah, those cute little mage fraternities you all had. I'd heard about them, of course, but never gave them much thought," I commented. "Though I suppose I should have, if they affect mage politics like they are."

"Few people outside the Circles pay them any mind," Morgana replied. "With you being a Tevinter and Hector and Solus being true apostates, the only Circle Mages of any significance left after the failed Conclave are myself, First-Enchanter Viviane and Warden-Commander Clarel. And while I see myself as a mage first, Warden second, Clarel is the exact opposite. With Fiona reportedly killed at Haven and Wynne at Adamant, and the rest of the First Enchanters killed at the Conclave itself... Vivienne has a free and clear path to the top and by siding with the Inquisition, she's all but assured to be the next Grand Enchanter at the very least."

"I'd have thought that you, of all people, with your titles and such, would approve or is it because you dislike her so much," I stated, looking to get into the head of the Warden-Commander.

"While Vivienne and I never formally joined any of the fraternities, she has stated that her beliefs are largely Aequitarian, but in practice, she is more of a cross between a Loyalist and a Lucrosian. Very, very, few Circles were like the one at Montsimmard. All of them Orlesian. Mages don't ususally attend balls and celebrations and when they do, they are kept away from those actually celebrating. We are meant to be little more than window dressing, there for parlor tricks and not much else. Entertainment. Anything more and the Templars get twitchy and Chantry Mothers start spouting about how our existence is an affront to the Maker. But Vivienne, she batted her eyes at a noble and got a free ride to all the influence and power she could ever dream of. I won't deny that she's done well for herself since then and, despite herself, has become a fairly accomplished mage in her own right, but for her, it's always been about doing what's best for Vivienne, not what's best for mage-kind."

"And you think she could- should have done things differently?" I ask leadingly. "I'll admit that since I'm not a southerner, I don't really understand all that much about what mages down here go through and the way you desribe her, Vivienne isn't really any different from mages who grew up in families like mine. Given what we in Tevinter hear about how mages in in the south are treated, the fact that there are mages like you, Vivienne and the Inquisitor is nothing short of a miracle."

"During The Blight, right after my Harrowing, I was nearly branded Tranquil helping my best friend escape from The Circle because HE was about to be made Tranquil due to rumors of him being a blood mage. Rumors that turned out to be true, ironically, but that's neither here nor there. After being conscripted to the Wardens, I spent a year being accused of being a traitor and regicide, dodging assassins, ending two Civil Wars- because, Dwarves- killing demons and abominations and slaying more darkspawn in that time than most people even saw between the Fourth and Fifth Blights in five lifetimes." Morgana told me without an ounce of bravado in her tone. I'm not sure I could have managed it. On second thought, I know for a fact I couldn't have managed it. Those are all brag worthy achievements and I would have milked them for all they were worth. "Oh, and I fought and killed three High Dragons in that time- the third of course, being the Archdemon Urthemial."

I couldn't help myself. The way she casually slipped that last bit in, as if it was an everyday thing, and not a deed of worldwide renown, made me laugh.

"So, I slay the Archdemon and ask to serve the crown. Nora- Queen Anora- then makes me her Chancellor- not Archmage to the Queen, but a full on Chancellor. And, much to my shock after the Coronation, not one in name only. On top of that, for all Alistair and I did for the kingdom, she gave the Grey Wardens the holdings of the late Rendon Howe, namely the Arling of Amaranthine. Making me, as the newly appointed Commander of the Grey of Fereldan, the Arlessa of Amaranthine by default."

"That must have been overwhelming," I comment. She had gone from being borderline, if not outright, oppressed, to being on the run like some common brigand to leading armies of men and being an advisor to a head of state and all within the timespan of a single year. She must have gone through a much bigger culture shock than even I had when I first came to the south.

"Thanks to Nora, I did get a six month break between the Blight and having to actually deal with the Thaw since she allowed some Orlesian Grey Wardens take over for me. And she did allow me to deal with the strangely behaving darkspawn before calling me back to help her, Teryn Cousland and Arl Guerrin deal with matters of court," she replied. "And it wasn't all bad. While dealing with the Blight and the Thaw, I still had friends to help me. I kind of feel sorry for the Queen to be honest. Fergus and I are probably the closest people Nora's had to a friend since Cailan's death at the Battle of Ostagar. As much as I hate dealing with noble crap, I hate being so far from Denerim more because Fergus doesn't push her like I do." She then sighed. "The point is, with all her power and influence, Vivienne has only done things that benefit Vivienne and if other people benefitted, horray for her! But me, everything I've done since leaving Kinloch has been for the betterment of others. Usually, if I benefit, it's because I made someone's life easier and they're yelling less than they were."

"I don't envy you that. Before... Well, before I left, I saw how my father's responsibilities to the Magisterium often wore him down. I could never understand how he felt it worth it to put himself through all that, for little to no gain for himself. Sure the family benefited. One more notch on our grand legacy, but there was hardly ever in personal gain in it for him specifically," I say, commiserating with her, while mentally comparing Vivienne, Morgana and my father. Truthfully, I had always liked the First Enchanter. We had things in common, people who didn't like us for a number of reasons. And I still did, in all honesty, though I wasn't as blind to her faults as I had been before. Unlike so many others at Skyhold, including and especially the other mages, our interactions with each other reminded me of back home. "And I suppose I can see what your point about Vivienne. I'm not sure I wholly agree, but I can see why you feel that way."

The two of us sat in silence for a few moments, before he spoke up once more. "So, what are you reading."

"Genitivi," I reply, holding up the book.

"I met him during the Blight," Morgana commented.

"I know. This one is about Haven- his final work. You're mentioned in the foreward. He all but dedicated the book to you," I inform her in the event she hadn't read it.

"I know. I had intended to thank him when I saw it, but he'd already vanished," Morgana said with a frown. "I looked into what happened to him, but noone could find any trace of him. The trail ended led all the way to Haven, but there are no signs of him or the rest of his party having met an untimely end. It was as if they'd just... Gone."

"I hadn't heard that," I admit.

"Few people have. These last ten years have been a time of miracles... Me not only ending a Blight in a year- less than that when you really think about it- but also finding the Temple of Sacred Ashes... Ashes that worked as advertised. Arty almost singlehandedly stopping a Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall, Inquisitor Adaar, a... Qunari who is Andrastian and is seemingly her chosen... And those are just the highlights of things going on," Morgana shook her head. "I couldn't even fathom what would happen if people found out that Genitivi didn't just disappear under mysterious circumstances, but did so at Haven."

"Who else knows, if you don't mind my asking," I inquire. Given all the holy rhetoric going around, especially with the Inquisitor being Andraste's chosen, it was hard, even for someone like me, to get wrapped up in the mystique and wonder of it all. It all made for a fantastic tale and I couldn't wait to see how Varric would put it all down on paper.

"Myself and the Senior Wardens of Ferelden. We were one of two groups looking into it. Seeker Pentaghast and the people she had with her- they were the other group. Divine Justinia and Queen Anora for certain. I also suspect that Empress Celene might know, though I have my doubts given how the secret of his disappearance, few as they are, are still secret," Morgana told me. "So you have joined a very exclusive group of people. Don't make me regret trusting you."

"I won't. The people around here are polite, but I can still see how some of them fear me, despite having done nothing for them to mistrust me so. I'll not bollocks it up by betraying your's, and by extention, The Inquisitor's trust," I vow to her sincerely.

"I have to admit, it's nice to be able to have a conversation with a Tevinter I didn't want to stab or lob a fireball at," Morgana said to me. "Of course you not being a two bit, slaving, Magister, blood mage probably helps."

I look at her unamused. "Not all two bit, slaving blood mages are Magisters."

"I didn't say they were. They do, actually. Apparently, one of the requirements of being a two bit, slaving blood mage is a need to monologue and more than a few I've encountered have claimed to be Magisters. True or not, they knew us southerners hadn't the means or the caring to verify one way or the other, especially considering that within mere moments either they or us would be dead. And Caladrius, the two bit, slaving blood mage I killed in Denerim's Alienage even had papers stating as such. Really, you only have your own countrymen to blame for the south's perception of you."

That stung. I was fairly outspoken on my opinion of the south's perception of the Imperium. Especially given the number of times I had to explain that I while I was a mage from Tevinter, not all mages were members of the Magisterium and thus I myself was not a Magister. Although, Warden-Commander Amell's explanation did explain why so many in the south associated Magisters with slaving and not just blood magic- the southern definition of blood magic.

"Fair," I respond. "You know, speaking of coutrymen, I think an ancestor or two of mine might have been Amells."

She merely shrugged. "That's hardly surprising. It's generally accepted that noble families as inundated with magic as the Amells or the Trevelyans have roots in the Teviniter Imperium."

"That must be a horrifying thought for most," I reply amusedly.

"No one really thinks about it too much. After all, the Imperium was once spread across the whole of Thedas, so it stands that if you look back far enough, most, if not all, of the noble families that exist today have some sort of ties back to the Imperium. Even the ones who claim to have no magical ancestry," Morgana replied easily. "This is especially true for the Amells since our family history is Kirkwall's history."

She then looked as if a thought just occured to her and suddenly she laughed.

"Care to share?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"I just find it amusing that, like most Amells, I was born in Kirkwall and became the Hero of Fereldan. Whereas Arty was actually born in Fereldan and became the Champion of Kirkwall," Morgana answered with a smile.

That made me chuckle as well. "What is that saying... The Maker moves in mysterious ways."

"If you liked that irony, you'll love this one. Arty and I aren't exactly cousins. Not really we're more... second cousins once removed or something. Our mothers were cousins, both born to the Amell family. Point being, we Amells aren't known for producing weak mages, and this is in spite of years of attempting to carefully breed magic out of our family line," Morgana informed me.

"Good to know that noble practices remain the same no matter where you go," I reply flippantly. I was amused by the fact that she was a powerful mage in spite of breeding and I was one, partially, because of it.

"That's not the punchline," Morgana stated.

"Oh?" Now I'm really intrigued as I straighten up to hear what she has to say.

"Arty's mother Leandra, met and fell in love with a Junior Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle during one of those little parties I mentioned. Not surprisingly, one for an Orlesian noblewoman, Flori-something or other. Arty wasn't sure herself. Story short, skipping over things unwanted engagments and Grey Warden blood rituals holding back evil Ancient Tevinter Magister Darkspawn, and Leandra and Malcolm elope and run off to Ferelden, where they have three children, only one of whom was a mage, despite Leandra's lineage and the fact that Malcolm wasn't a slouch in that department himself," Morgana's face held a hint of pride. "In fact, Bethany was named a Senior Enchanter in record time in the Kirkwall Circle, second only to First Enchanter Orsino, and is currently acting First Enchanter. According to Varric, between herself, their friend Aveline and the Prince of Starkhaven, the acting Viscount, some blowhard named Bran, wouldn't be able to keep order in Kirkwall as well as he has, all things considered."

Morgana smirked at this point. "My grandparents, on the other hand, chose my mother's husband because his line boasted that because of their devoutness to the Maker, their line had never once had been cursed with with the blight of magic and their honor had forever been and remained untarished due to that fact."

"Sounds like they're overcompensating to me," I reply dryly. Having come from a place where magical lineage was everything, I wasn't exactly pleased that there were families in the south who extolled the virtues of being the exact opposite of everything I've ever known.

"There's a reason I go by my mother's name," Morgana pointed out in agreement. "Part of Cousin Leandra's decision to run off and elope with Malcolm was because of my own mother, Revka, having given birth to several children, ALL of whom were magical, inspite of our father's 'non-magical' lineage. Because Amell history is Kirkwall's history, we were sent to the four corners of Thedas. Daylen was sent to Ostwick and became their First Enchanter, only to die at the Conclave. Solona was a promient Senior Enchanter of the White Spire Circle, but she was killed by Templars who had attempted to stop the College of Enchanters from seceding from the Chantry. And me, who was likely the most famous mage in all of Thedas until Anders blew up the Kirkwall Chantry."

"Hard to beat slaying an Archdemon and being the first mage outside of the Imperium in almost a thousand years to hold a noble title," I reply. "One has to do something to stand out and you did set the bar rather high. Just look at the lengths the Inquisitor had to go to to become famous."

"So what, Corypheus trying to open up the Black City a second time is just his way of saying 'I'm the greatest mage of all time, kneel before me, and bask in my presence lesser creatures'?" Morgana asked me in a tone of incredulity.

Once the words were out of her mouth, we both blink in shock, thinking her words over.

"I know your words were said in jest, but they make a disturbing amount of sense," I say in shock.

"It's insane is what it is," Morgana replied with a frown.

"And Corypheus has always been Paragon of Sanity," I respond sarcastically.

"It really is the end of days when a Tevinter starts making sense," Morgana stated with a pout.

"It's less me making sense and more me being incredibly self-aware," I reply glibly.

Morgana raised an eyebrow questioningly at me. "And what's the difference?"

"Our complete and utter destruction is only mostly assured rather than being completely so," I inform her. "You'll have to ask Varric what the current odds on our success are though, he's the one running the book."

The Warden-Commander sighed. "Maybe it's less you're making more sense and more the rest of the world is less sense."

"Oh, that would be a game changer," I say excitedly. "I wonder how that would affect the odds and whether or not I should change my bet."

Morgana slumped in her chair. "Varric is right, this shit IS weird!"


	6. Solas, The Dread Wolf

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter Six: Solas, The Dread Wolf**

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I dip my brush into the paint. My thoughts wander as I maintain an active connection to the Fade. Spirits touch my thoughts as I lift the brush from the palette and move it across the stone. Another presense makes itself known. This one very dark grey in nature. I can barely sense it... Her... She is cloaked in magic in a way I had not seen in centuries long past.

A handy technique I used myself from time to time.

She stares at my back, waiting, watching. She is observing me as I observe her, with more than our eyes. My mouth twitches in amusement- the same general sense of amusement being felt by the woman watching me as I work. Absently, I hear my chair being pulled back and I feel her sitting in it. She barely gives the artifacts collected at my desk a second thought, granting them little more than a precursory glance.

"Is there something I can help you with Warden?" I ask. I'm only mildly surprised at her lack of surprise that without looking behind me, I already know who she is.

"I'd just like a moment of your time," She replied cordially. "You're quite talented."

I shrug as I place the palette and the brush down on the table provided on the scaffolding I was using to complete my self-appointed task. "You are being kind. I'm a mere hobbyist, at best."

"I'll concede that these aren't like anything you'd find in Orlais, Antiva, Tevinter or Nevarra. They're all far too simplistic," Morgana notes as she looks over the murals, not just the one I'm painting, but the ones I've already completed. "But there is beauty in simplicity. An understated elegance at work that most would not fully appreciate or understand."

"But you do?" I ask curiously.

"I tend not to miss much," She states. "Less than most."

I mentally shrug off the probing statement. I give nothing away, not even an indication that I'm aware that we are talking about more than the mural. It's the type of conversation I had thought I'd have had with either Dorian or Vivian, given their backgrounds- a style of conversation I'd rather NOT have with the Inquisitor.

Vivian, however, for all her skill at manipulating a court, is a little too focused on herself and how things affect her personally to see even a shade of who and what I am. She is far too focused on my outer appearance and apparent lack of class. So confident she is in her own infallibility... Pride cometh before the fall. She'd learn, just as the Evanuris learned.

Dorian, on the other hand, cares little for intrigue and deceptions. He's dealt with it all his life, but his time in the south, surrounded by Orlesian non-nobility, Fereldans and Marchers, has dulled his edge. He's free to be more himself, and so he is. If my circumstances were different, I think I could actually get along with him. The problem between us, is that we have very little in common other than being mages- something that is actually quite frustrating. From his perspective, he comes from a long line of talented mages with a proud history, one that is rich in powerful and obscure magic. My history is grander and older than anything he's ever known. Much of what his family legacy is built upon are the bones of my people's culture.

"I fear you may be seeing more than there is," I tell her.

"Perhaps, but I don't think so," she allows. Her attention turns to the murals once more. "They really are beautiful. I don't suppose I could get you to do something like this at the Vigil?"

I chuckle. "I'm sorry, but no. I use painting as a form of meditation. From the moment I pick up a brush, I open myself to the Fade and allow Spirits of Creativity and Serenity guide my actions. What you see are mostly their work."

"This is the physical world, not the Fade. A spirit can't create something from nothing," Morgana counters. "It might be their will guiding your actions, but you have to have talent for them to make use of."

I consider her words for a brief moment as I join her at my desk. "That is true. I suppose it's something I've never considered as I am always communing with Spirits whenever I paint."

"I'm much the same whenever I am running through sword drills in the courtyard," Morgana admitted. "I don't open myself up to the Fade like you do, but I do use that time in the morning to clear my thoughts and purge negative emotions."

"I'd have thought, given your... Studies, that opening yourself up to the Fade is not something you'd be inclined to do," I reply obliquely.

"Despite Chantry and Circle dogma, I do not fear Spirits or Demons, though I do respect them. I did have some difficulty for a time, but interactions with a Spirit ally of mine helped me deepen my connection to the Fade," Morgana replied in kind. "I can't do what you do, of course. But that's mostly because I've never thought to try. You, sir, are a man... elf... mage? of unique talent."

"Any of those labels suffice. They are all applicable, after all. Not that I've ever cared much for labels," I inform her. The only one that ever mattered was Dread Wolf, and that was more to inspire my allies and strike fear in the hearts of my enemies.

She nodded slightly. "I figured as much, but saw no harm in being polite. To be honest, I have little patience for those who get caught up on labels, as if those actually matter. People are people and should be allowed to be people, regardless of individual identity. Identity labels, much like names, are pretty, but are ultimately useless and irrelevant."

"You sound like Sera," I say in mild distaste. Only mild due to the fact that she also sounded like someone else I knew. Someone I cherished above all others. Not that I'd reveal either of those facts to her.

"Simple and ill educated as she may be, she's not wholly wrong," Morgana argues. "There is wisdom in wanting people to have the freedom to just be themselves without being bogged down by the biases of yesteryear."

"True," I reluctantly agree.

While I do not like Sera, what she says isn't completely without merit. Even if the girl herself doesn't fully understand the implications of her own views. In all honesty, while I loathe that she is so quick to give up the past of our people, I also admire her for it. To be so free and unburdened... I wish I could bring myself to do the same. But I can't... I won't. My course is set and I refuse to back down from it.

"However, how we got here today, relies on what we did yesterday. If we completely forget the past, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of yesterday and we would not grow as people- either as individuals or as a civilization," I refute.

"It's not so much remembering as learning from, but I concede your point," Morgana replied. "Partially, at least. Remembering the past is all well and good, but one shouldn't get so bogged down in remembering what things were like, good and bad, that they forget to move forward. Take Corypheus, for example. For him, Tevinter is like this favorite teacup he'd had in ages long past. Only it's shattered into peices and he's looking for a way to put it back together, not even realizing that even if he manages to do just that, it still won't be the same as before."

I give her a long look. She doesn't even know, yet she hit on the head an issue that I had been struggling with. One I still struggle with, to be honest. First the Inquisitor, inspite of his being a Qunari, and now the Warden-Commander, inspite of her being closer to what most expect Dorian to be. "You are a most insightful Warden... Arlessa..." Here I pause a bit longer. "Maleficar..."

Instead of getting angry or defensive, Morgana Amell giggled in amusement. "All three are applicable, though I'd prefer if the last title remain between just us. You are full of surprises."

"You all but openly admitted to practicing blood magic back in Crestwood," I reply.

"And yet, it was the... 'Unwashed Apostate Hobo', not 'The Iron Lady', the 'Flashy Tevinter', the Qunari Spy or any of the others who picked up that bit of information," She states smirking in a self-satisfied manner.

The corners of my mouth twitch in amusement. Despite myself, I find myself taking an instant liking to Morgana Amell- easily the most dangerous woman in all of Thedas to my plans at this very moment. It is an amusing and effective weapon, how much my unassuming appearance and manner seems to give people certain preconceptions of me.

Vivian looks down her nose at me and doesn't see anything more about me than she expects. Dorian struggles far too hard to find common ground, romanticizing my people, who were hardly innocent victims in the grand scheme. Sera's general disdain for anything 'elfy', as she'd put it, not to mention her terror of magic, means she is both unsuitable for my endeavors and not even remotely a threat to them. Bull has actually noticed more about me than most, but his wariness of my magic- the way it puts him off- prevents him from delving further. The Nightingale would certainly be a dangerous opponent, but with so many other more immediate things that need investigating, she is of no concern- for now. As for the Inquisitor, despite my appearance and demeanor, he often seeks my council on the Fade, spirits and other magical matters, despite being a mage himself. While not one to debate philosophy or discuss indepth magical theory with, Inquisitor Adaar was very practical with how he learned and used magic- on;y using and learning what he needed to at any given time. He also wasn't shy about admitting when he didn't know something.

Morgana Amell, on the other hand, assumed nothing. She watched and observed. She waited. If she was an elf, I don't think I'd even try to recruit her, for a couple of reasons.

Before she was a Grey Warden, a mage, or even a human, she was Ferelden, first and foremost. My recruitment efforts in Fereldan had to be done carefully and quietly as many in that country, regardless of race, station or various other factors, saw themselves as Fereldans first. Any other designation was secondary, though even there, there were servents who were very dissatisfied with how their noble employers treated them. Denerim should have been a city full of potential recruits, given the hardships the elves there had endured over the years, however Morgana Amell had unknowingly prevented that through her efforts during and after The Blight.

The Arling of Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep were off limits completely. The reverence for her in those two places reminded me of another time and another place. Looking at Morgana Amell was like looking into a mirror and, strange as it may sound, I was actually looking forward to crossing paths with her in the future, testing her mettle against my own.

"Anyone can be found to have peculiar talents and hidden depths, provided one is willing to look for them," I reply self-deprecatingly.

"Some more than most." She says pointedly. Much is insinuated in that statement. Though the accusation is there, it wasn't made, but it was there all the same.

"Times of strife and turmoil will often bring about the strangest of bedfellows- something that I have seen be true of every age and every era, in my studies of the Fade," I reply, giving her nothing. Confirming her suspicions, likely, but that's all she has with any certainty.

She looks away, lost in remembrance for a brief moment. "That, they do. I befriended a spirit once, did you know that?"

"I was unaware. I take it this is a tale without a happy ending," I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the spirit and how she encountered it. Given that she was a practitioner of blood magic, and despite how she interacted with Cole, I found it likely that perhaps she had summoned it and perverted it's will. Then again, she referred to it as a spirit, rather than a demon, so perhaps this was something she encountered before she became a maleficar, something the Circle she came from was sure to have discouraged, possibly leaving her to explore the forbidden arts to fill the void.

"I suppose that depends on perspective," Morgana states.

"How so?" I ask.

"In some ways, his tale isn't over yet," she replied.

She has me curious. She knows this. Furthermore, she knows, I know, she knows. Few mages under the auspices of Andrastian Chantry doctrine take the time to talk to spirits, let alone call one friend. If there is one thing I loathe and love, it's a mystery; finding out that there is something I don't know.

"You've heard of the mage Anders, no?" She inquires.

"His name has come up," I reply neutrally. He, and by extension Hawke, was listed as one of the primary reasons the conflict between Mages and Templars had began.

"Something Varric barely makes mention of in the Tale of the Champion is that Anders was what the Chantry would classify as an Abomination," she reveals.

"The Chantry, but not you?" I ask, wondering where she was going with this. She was full of surprises.

"No. Something Leli failed to make mention of when she wrote my story, the tale of our adventures during the Fifth Blight, was that one of our number, the other Circle mage of our group, was possessed by a Spirit of Faith. It aided her in her time of need and saved her life, by extension, saving the lives of many others. So when it comes to possession, I'm more open minded than most, but I am cognizant of the fact that Wynne and Anders were the exceptions, rather than the rule," she explained. "After I recruited Anders into the Grey Wardens by involking the Rite of Conscription, we encountered a strange phenomenon while in a place called Blackmarsh, near Amaranthine. We had been looking for an Orlesian Warden named Kristoff and ended up being drawn into the Fade. While we were trapped there, we encountered a Spirit of Justice. Justice proceeded to help us escape the Fade, which had the unintended side effect of him accidentally possessing the dead body of Warden Kristoff. Because he hadn't intended to do so, and because it was in his nature, I allowed him to help us resolve the situation in Blackmarsh and recruited him into the Grey Wardens. Months later, due to an incident with an Orlesian Grey Warden, Anders ended up binding a willing Justice to himself and left The Vigil for Kirkwall."

"So you think it was the Spirit who compelled Anders to act as he did," I state with a frown. As much as I would like to lay all the blame on the foolish mage who bound a spirit to himself, I could see the logic in Justice being able to act in such a manner as it had in Kirkwall without losing it's nature. One of the follies of Circle Mages is that they tended to polarize spirits and demons, who represented various virtues and vices, in terms of good and evil respectively. Justice might be a virtue, but it was a harsh one. One prone to extremes. While it was bound to acts of goodness, the complexities of the waking world were such that it was possible that it could commit an act of great evil in the course of fulfilling it's purpose.

"Partly. The Anders I knew in Amaranthine hated the injustices mages were forced to endure, but he'd have never have been able to do anything as extreme as blowing up a Chantry," Morgana informed me. "On more than one occasion, Justice asked Anders, who was always quite vocal about how he felt about how mages were treated, why he didn't do more to fight that injustice. That being said, if not for him possessing Anders, I doubt he'd have acted in such an extreme manner either. According to Varric and Arty, Anders sometimes referred to Justice as Vengeance, meaning on some level, him being bound to Anders did change Justice, which in turn, changed Anders. Anders apparently even admitted as much."

I frown in thought. "But not necessarily to the point of changing it from a Spirit to a Demon. Vengeance rides a fine line between virtue and vice and Justice isn't so far removed from Vengeance that it would be considered a perversion of it's nature."

"My thought as well, though I'll admit that I'm not exactly unbiased. They were my friends and despite the fact that I know better, I still tend to think of spirits and demons in terms of good and evil," she admitted. "As horrifying as their actions in Kirkwall were, I'd like to think that Anders and Justice were at least trying to act in the service of a Greater Good."

"A dangerous line of thought that tends to lend itself committing atrocious acts of evil in service to a higher calling," I point out.

"You don't have to tell me that," Morgana agreed. "The current situation with the Wardens is because we are encouraged to think that way- to make the tough decisions, damn the consequences. If people are around to point fingers at us accusingly, it's because we did our jobs and made sure there were people around to condemn us after the fact."

My frown did not let up. If anything, it deepened. Put that way, I could see the parallels between the Warden's current actions and those of my past. And even those of my present. I was quick to condemn the Wardens for what they were doing, despite not being so different from them. They were people who were willing to sacrifice anything and everything for the sake of doing their duty, knowing that in the end, their actions were justified if it meant that the people who were damning them would live on. There was nobility in that, even if it was being manipulated to a nefarious end by The Elder One and his followers.

As much as I genuinely liked Hector and Morgana, I have to admit to resenting them slightly. Both have a way of unknowingly making me see the flaws of my plans. The wrongness of them. On the other hand, not staying the course was equally abhorrent to me. It was the ultimate no-win conundrum. I have a duty to my people, one that will see hundreds of thousands of others die so that, like Justice, I can serve my purpose. On the other hand, if I do nothing, the sins I have committed against my people, who have been forced to endure what they have largely due to my actions against the Evanuris, would be further compounded beyond what they already have been.

In the end, I am hero and villain. Savior and destroyer. Solas and Fen'Harel.

The Dread Wolf who walks the path that Gods dare not tread for fear of me.

No matter my actions, no matter what course I set for myself, I am always and forever more damned; bound to leave nothing but pain and destruction in my wake, even as I try to be the best possible version of myself.

Especially because I strive to be the best version of myself.


	7. Arthuria Hawke, The Champion of Kirkwall

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.

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**Chapter Seven: Arthuria Hawke, The Champion of Kirkwall**

* * *

Only a select few of us were going to the ritual site- most everyone else would be sent forward towards Gryphon Wing Keep in order to take it from the Venatori. Aside from myself and Morgana, Varric, Warden Blackwall and Dorian would be accompanying The Inquisitor.

Trudging through the sand, all of us were mounted on Dracolisks, except for Varric, who was atop a Battle Nug.

"So I have to ask, Hero, where are Alistair and the rest of the Fereldan Senior Wardens?" Varric inquired.

"No where easily reached, even by messenger bird," Morgana replied evenly, though there was a slight frown on her face.

"Something wrong?" I ask in concern.

Morgana sighed. "Times like this, I wish Anders had never left The Vigil. I know they can take care of themselves, but I'd feel alot better if they had a dedicated healer with them. Velanna is only marginally better at that, than I am."

"He was a healer?" Dorian asked in shock.

"One of the best I've ever known. The only one better was Wynne, but she had decades of experience on him," Morgana informed him.

"If not for all the times he saved our asses, I'd wish he'd stayed in Amaranthine as well," Varric grumbled.

I remained silent.

Only the two of us were really all that cordial with Anders towards the end. The more influence Justice gained, the more surly he'd gotten. Just him being in the same room with Fenris was a recipe for disaster and even Merrill and Isabella had gotten pretty fed up with him. As the days passed, even Varric had begun to tire of him. Especially when Orsino and Meredith began to have their near daily shouting matches in Hightown.

I did my best to mediate between the two of them, but if I did a favor for one, the other would barely speak to me. Meanwhile, I was all but officially doing the job as the Viscount due to the fact that Meredith refused to let a new one be appointed after the death of Marlowe Dumar. I tried to get Bethany, Cullen and Elthina to intercede on my behalf, but Cullen wouldn't show any sort of initiative, despite it being desperately needed, and Elthina did what the Chantry had always done best: Do nothing and let Templars sort it out (which was the root of many of the problems in Kirkwall). Bethany, at least, could get me in to see Orsino so that I could appeal to him directly, but there was only so much he could do and even less that he was willing to concede on. It probably helped that despite doing my best to remain neutral between the Templars and mages, two of my friends were well known apostates.

"What exactly do you have them doing, if you don't mind my asking?" Varric inquired.

"I have them looking into something that may or may not help with curing the Blight... Or rather, curing The Calling," Morgana answered.

"Is such a thing possible?" Blackwall asked.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Morgana replied. "Almost forty years ago a Warden managed it."

"Truly?" Dorian inquired. "That would come in handy against Corypheus."

"Not really. They're mostly chasing down rumors and wild speculations. I'd have liked to have been able to get some input from the former Warden in question, but she died at Haven," Morgana replied.

Warden Blackwall shook his head. "A lot of good people were lost at Haven."

"Yeah, but she was one of the attackers, confirmed to have been killed by Inquisitor Adaar," Morgana informed us.

"One of the Rebel Mages then," Dorian stated. "A high ranking one I'd imagine, if they were notable enough to have been killed personally by the Inquisitor."

Morgana nodded her head in confirmation. "Grand Enchanter Fiona. To the best of my knowledge, noone, not even Fiona herself, is quite sure how she managed to become cured of The Blight. It was ruled a freak accident by Weisshaupt and they shut down any research into replicating the feat."

"Why would they do that?" Blackwall asked with a frown on his face.

"Couldn't rightly tell you. Weisshaupt keeps their own council on a number of things. I do know that they forced Fiona to retake The Joining, but whatever happened to her to cleanse her of The Blight also made her completely immune to it- something that is unheard of as not even Grey Wardens are completely immune to The Taint," Morgana stated. "Afterwards, she didn't part with the Order on good terms. I had hoped that since she was said to have been an old friend of Warden-Commander Duncan's that she'd grant me an audience- seeing as how many consider me Duncan's protege. That's typically enough to get me in the door with most people around Fereldan- the ones who aren't already awed by me being the Hero of Fereldan at least, but she always refused to see me. I even offered to meet her at the College of Enchanters in Cumberland, to give her home advantage. Being the foremost expert on The Blight in all of Thedas, I had hoped that I might catch something in her travels with Duncan and King Maric that she and the other Wardens might have overlooked. Fortunately, according to old Warden writings we found at Soldier's Peak, Fiona might not have been the first, but we can't be sure."

"You seem rather desperate to rid yourself of The Calling," The Inquisitor observed.

Morgana sighed. "Fereldan has no current heir to the Kingdom and Nora is disinclined to remarry or even take on a lover. The strongest candidates to take the throne in the event of something happening to her are Teyrn Fergus Cousland, who'd have my backing and is the son of the late Bryce Cousland- who was nearly crowned King of Fereldan himself, after King Maric was pronounced dead, and Arl Teagan Guerrin, who is considered a Hero of the Fifth Blight and is a maternal uncle to the late King Cailan. He's also my chief political rival. I don't want him crowned King and he wouldn't want someone who I'd have influence with to be crowned, so the chance for civil unrest, if not a another full blown Civil War, is very real in Fereldan's near future."

"Wasn't Teagan an ally of yours during The Blight?" Dorian asked.

"Until I betrayed his brother at the Landsmeet before the Battles of Redcliffe and Denerim," Morgana replied. "After the Battle of Ostagar, it was because of Teagan's suspicions over Cailan's fate and those of the Grey Wardens, that the Civil War during The Blight started and Loghain and Howe became too busy to truly dedicate themselves to making sure all of the Fereldan Grey Wardens were killed in the battle's aftermath. This allowed us to move about more freely than we otherwise would have been able to. When we showed up at Redcliffe, Alistair and I rallied the townspeople and joined to militia in repelling the undead horde that had been plaguing them at the behest of a Desire Demon. From there, Teagan and I had the start of a bond of mutual respect forged in blood and battle. Unfortunately, that bond was tested almost from the start."

Morgana took a pull from her canteen before continuing her tale of things that had been left out of the the varioius tales about her adventures during the Fifth Blight. Apparently, Sister Nightingale's tales of Morgana's exploits were about as selective on details as Varric's accounts of our adventures were. "While we managed to save Arl Eamon's son, Connor, we did so by sacrificing Arlessa Isolde's life in a Blood Magic ritual. After finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes and using them to restore Eamon, Eamon still proceeded to hand Jowan over the the Circle of Magi to undergo the Rite of Tranquility, inspite of me involking the Rite of Conscription. On top of that, Eamon tried to shoehorn Alistair into becoming King of Fereldan so he could attempt to usurp Anora and use him as a puppet, despite Alistair's wishes on the matter. Unbeknownst to Eamon, the ONLY reason I went out of my way to help him is because of Alistair's loyalty to the man and not because I needed an ally against Loghain."

She frowned at this point while shaking her head, making it very clear to us just how much she seemed to dislike Eamon, the former Arl of Redcliffe. "Personally, I would have been fine dealing with the Bann of Rainsfaire acting as the Regent of Redcliffe, but both Teagan and Alistair insisted that we should help the Arl. Between how Eamon had treated Alistair as a child and what he'd done to Jowan... I didn't consider him to be anything more than an ally of convenience, so before the Landsmeet, I brokered a deal with Anora. She got to remain Queen, I'd lead the Armies against the Darkspawn Horde, Alistair would remain a Grey Warden, her father would die if he refused to step down as Regent and Eamon would be sidelined and rendered irrelevant. Needless to say, Anora and I were able to topple both Loghain and Eamon simultaneously, which wasn't all that difficult, given the debts of gratitude owed to me by several noble families. Debts Eamon had been hoping to take advantage of by his association with me. He'd really been pushing for Alistair to become King, so when it was shown that I supported Anora for the crown, and that Alistair supported me, not even protesting the idea of swearing fealty to Anora and very willingly relinquishing all rights to the Kingship of Fereldan, Eamon lost a lot of influence- especially after it became known that he no longer had an heir. His loss of influence became complete when Anora made me her Chancellor as well as the Arlessa of Amaranthine, something that the other nobles might have protested against if not for the fact I'd just slain the Archdemon and that I was very obviously in a relationship with Alistair Theirin. So, despite the fact that he'd relinquished all claim to his heritage for both him and his heirs, there is still a chance the Theirin line- the Lineage of King Callanhad- would still continue through me."

Dorian whistled in awe. "I have to admit I find myself both impressed and very glad you were born a southerner. Had you been born in the Imperium, you'd probably be Archon have the Magisterium eating out of the palm of your hands."

Morgana sighed. "Unfortunately, it's extremely rare for Grey Wardens to have children and since both of us have undergone the Joining..."

"The chances of you and Alistair having children is next to impossible," I finish for her. "That's why you're looking to end The Calling- to produce an heir to the Throne of Fereldan and prevent a potential Civil War."

"That isn't the only reason, or even the primary one, but I would be lying if I said it didn't factor in to my decision to look for ways of curing The Blight so I can actually give birth," Morgana chuckled humorlessly. "You know, there was a time when the thought of becoming a mother was abhorrent to me. Children born to mages in the Circle are immediately seperated from their mothers. Those shown to have magical talent are sent to other Circles. Those that don't are raised by the Chantry to become Templars. For those reasons, pregnancies within the Circle are rare. When Alistair first told me how difficult it was for Wardens to have children, I was relieved. Later, as we grew closer, I had no reservations being with him because becoming pregnant was something I wouldn't have to worry about. I was fully capable of giving everything of myself to the man I loved without having to worry about what would happen to any potential children we might have. That first night out of Lothering when he informed me of the low Warden fertility rate, I didn't give it so much as a second thought as I had no plans to ever become a mother. I was vehemently against the idea. It wasn't until I returned to court after the Siege of Amaranthine that I began to contemplate what it would be like to actually have a child. It was Habren Bryland, of all people, who put the thought in my head."

"To be honest, motherhood wasn't something I ever stopped to contemplate either," I admit. "There was always too much to do in Kirkwall to give the matter any serious thought. Anders and I would occasionally bring it up in a joking way- he'd also warned me early on that children weren't likely to happen, but we'd always laugh it off, make the obligatory joke about enjoying the practice of making them. It wasn't until after the Mage Uprising that I wished we'd taken the matter more seriously."

Varric scowled. "Considering you went on the run after that, it was probably for the best that you and Blondie didn't have any kids."

"Maybe," I reluctantly agreed, though I still felt plenty conflicted on the matter. I couldn't hide my bitterness over the whole matter, nor did I want to. Despite his actions, I still loved Anders and nothing was going to change that. "But I'd have liked to have something more than a knife stained in his blood to remember him by."

An awkward silence fell over our little retinue after my bitter admission. I couldn't help but be jealous of my cousin. She was a declared hero of an entire nation. I was the champion of a single city. She had, for the most part, suceeded in everything she'd ever done. I was nearly a picture perfect example of a complete failure. Her travelling companions, even after years apart, were like siblings. Mine could barely stand each other. She'd gotten all of her people through the Blight alive. The small company I led fleeing Ostagar had met a gruesome end, except for Carver and I. My Brother had been killed as we fled Lothering. My mother was killed by the blood mage I'd been tracking down for years and Anders... The love of my life had died at my own hand, while Morgana was not only deliriously happy with her paramour of choice, he was off on an adventure of his own, with the hopes that the possible reward at the end of the journey was for them to gain the ability to start a family of their own.

I killed the previous Arishok. The current one considers her a close personal friend. She killed an Archdemon, while I failed to kill Corypheus. The two of us had contributed to the situation that gave rise to the Elder One and his Venatori- not to mention the start of the Mage/Templar War. But those situations happened in spite of Morgana's actions and because of many of my own.

Whatever people thought of me- many people across Thedas hated Anders and rightfully so. Varric was especially critical of him whenever he came up in conversation. It was like a stab to the heart everytime I heard someone badmouthing him- especially when it was my friends doing the badmouthing. Even after all the time that had passed, I still loved him and missed him dearly. As horrified as I had been that he had tricked me into helping him blow up the Kirkwall Chantry, a small part of me believed that if he had told me the truth of what he planned, I might have helped him anyway. Despite the fact that he was likely to go down in history as one of the greatest monsters in the history of Thedas, I still wished I had more than the knife I murdered him with to remember him by.

Morgana and I shared a look.

Of everyone I knew, the only ones who didn't ever talk bad about Anders were Bethany and Morgana. Most of my friends avoided talking about him all together, though Isabella and Aveline were always willing to offer what comfort they could. After Varric, they were my closest friends and confidants. The Rivani pirate was a better person than she gave herself credit for. Fenris' hatred towards all mages- the sole exception being Bethany- meant that he would rather sell himself back into slavery than say anything positive about my long dead lover. Even Sebastian, whose perpetual bright and sunny disposition sometimes got on my nerves, couldn't help but disparage Anders every chance he got. It was like they'd all forgotten the good times we had all had together. What always hurt the most, however, was the fact that Varric, my best friend, had taken to occasionally cutting Anders out of the stories of our adventures, as if trying to forget that he even existed. Bethany, at least, was willing to reminisce with me about the good times we'd shared with Anders before she went to the Circle and even let me talk about the moments I fondly remembered after she had submitted herself to the Chantry's oversight.

Morgana though, was different. She didn't judge Anders for what he did. One some level, I suspect she even agreed with what he'd done. At least the reasoning behind it, if not the action itself. She'd even shared anecdotes of her own about him- from their shared time together at the Circle in Fereldan or Vigil's Keep in the Arling of Amaranthine. Unlike my friends or even my sister, she too mourned his death. While the nature of her relationship with Anders was far different from mine, it was easy to tell that cousin Morgana still thought of him fondly, despite what had become of him.

"Did you ever get to hear his rants about the statues of Andraste?" Morgana asked with a small smile, directing the topic of Anders into a more positive light.

I actually had, and the memories of those rants caused me to snort. A quick look back at Varric and even he was lightly chuckling. This was something that was very uncharacteristic of him in reference to Anders in the aftermath of the Mage Uprising in Kirkwall.

Dorian turned to Blackwall. "And suddenly, I am all too desperate to know, while being far too afraid to ask."

"Blondie reasoned that since Andraste was a fisher girl born in Denerim who grew up in Highever that the various statues and stained glass windows with her likeness couldn't possibly look like her," Varric replied.

"He had a five minute speech about how she was probably ugly and how the Chantry prettied her up to draw in more followers," I stated smilingly.

"Honestly, I thought his reasoning was sound, though I did argue against Andraste having the face of a mabari, insisting that she was probably more plain than outright ugly," Morgana added. "The Andrastian Chantry is Orlesian in origin after all and if there is anything Orlesians hate more than anything else, it's the thought of anything of importance being plain."

Inquisitor Adaar, Dorian and Warden Blackwall each looked at the three of us in various degrees of incredulity, as if to ask if we were actually serious. The looks on their faces made Morgana, Varric and I laugh.

"You're having us on!" Blackwall shouted with good humor.

Morgana dabbed her eyes as her laughter died down. "We truly aren't. Anders, more than anyone I'd ever traveled with, before or after the Blight, had a knack for starting some of the most ridiculous conversations known to man. I remember one day walking into the Great Hall of The Vigil to find him and Oghren having a serious debate over the practicalities of replacing a hand with a prostetic weapon like a sword or a crossbow instead of a hook. The two of them used to drive Nate spare."

"I learned early on that he wasn't allowed to name anything that wasn't a cat," I inform them. "Anything he named would have some sort of ridiculously cute name. The stray I found in Darktown he named Serrah Meowser."

"The one I gave him at The Vigil he named Ser Pounce-a-Lot," Morgana added. "He had to leave the poor thing behind when he left Fereldan. Gave him to Nate's sister Delilah."

"It's strange to hear about Anders sounding so..." Blackwall said, while trying to find the proper words.

"Ordinary? Human?" Morgana offered.

"Yeah..." Blackwall replied. "When people talk about him, he seems larger than life. The Revolutionary... The Madman... It's hard to determine what is and isn't true."

"Just imagine what people will be saying about us in a few years if we actually manage to defeat Corypheus," Dorian commented.

Varric chuckled. "You all had better be nice to me, since I'll be the one determining alot of what will be said about you for years to come."

"Dwarven business practices... If it's not bribery, it's blackmail," Morgana commented.

"Milady Hero, you wound me!" Varric replied with false innocence.

"Bhelen Aeducan and Jerrik Dace both consider me friends," Morgana pointed out. "I know better than anyone how dwarves get things done both above and below the surface. The Merchants Guild isn't so different from the Noble Caste."

"Touche... And Ouch," Varric responded lightheartedly, before shaking his head. "That's probably because most of the Merchant's Guild families were once part of the Noble Caste before getting kicked out of Orzammar. Like I told Sparkler not too long ago, we all come to the surface with the skills our ancestors' gave us. Running things and counting money is what my ancestors were good at. Fixing provings... Not so much."

"Hhhmmm... That would do it," Morgana replied. "I don't think there is anything in Orzammar that dwarves take more seriously than a Proving."

"I always wanted to go to one, just to see what all the fuss was about," Dorian commented.

"You'll never see anything like them topside. The Grand Tourney comes close, but even that pales in comparison," Morgana responded. "Though I admit, I'm not exactly unbiased. Orzammar is probably my favorite place in all of Thedas to visit. I've even participated in a few Provings myself."

"I find that hard to believe," Dorian rebutted. "While in Tevinter we have a general distain for all things Orlesian, even in Minrathous, we regard the Grand Tourney very highly."

"It's had to put into words to someone who's never been to one, but Dwarven Provings have..." Morgana replied, trailing off as she searched for the right words. "An energy to them that topside competitions lack, despite the fact that Dwarves will hold provings for practically any reason they can get away with. Lord so and so's son is gaining his first command: Let's hold a Proving! House Whatitsname just killed a legion of darkspawn: Let's hold a Proving! This House used the same underhanded tactics we employed against them earlier this year..."

"Let's hold a Proving!" Dorian exclaimed in amusement.

"Sadly, she's not even exaggerating," Varric confirmed with a shake of his head. "I think it has to do with the way Orzammar Dwarves emphasize venerating our ancestors to near deity status. Many Houses have been allies or rivals since before the fall of the Dwarven Kingdoms and each representative of a given House in a proving is basically meant to represent the sum of everything that house has ever been or will ever be and the winners of the Provings are basically considered the Ancestors' Chosen and hold within them all the honor and glory of Orzammar within themselves. And it's the same for every proving."

"You can't say that Orzammar being so close to the frontline in the fight against the Darkspawn doesn't factor into it," Morgana pointed out. "Provings are a great way to distract from the constant threat of Darkspawn Incursion and a slowly dwindling population."

"Harsh as his methods might seem to most- particularly the Deshyrs of the Assembly- King Bhelen has been making great strides to counter that. Partly due to your influence, no doubt, Warden," Varric prodded.

"Very little of it is my influence. Bhelen is craftier than most give him credit for and his plans have been in the works for years- long before the deaths of his father and elder brothers even. He might not have an honorable bone in his body and wouldn't know what to do with honesty if it slapped him in the face, but he will drag the Dwarven People to glory, kicking and screaming if he has to," Morgana justified. "Really, Empress Celine and Grand Duke Gaspard could both take a lessons from him. He might be a Tyrant, but he's a tyrant who actually works for the betterment of his people whether they like it or not. Though I'm not sure if his and Branka's inability to get along is a blessing or a curse."

"Probably for the best, all things considered," Varric stated.

Morgana seemed to agree, changing the subject. "Speaking of... Varric, I need you to describe the manner of creature Orsino became."

"Haven't you read my book?" Varric inquired, not really wanting to do so. That grotesque abomination was something that still gave me nightmares, so I could fully understand and appreciate why he was so reluctant to do so.

"I have, that's why I want to hear it's description from you- in your own words. Arty, feel free to chime in, anytime," Morgana said turning to me.

"Why is it so import to you that they do so?" Inquisitor Adaar inquired.

Morgana answered his question with another question. "Varric, how familiar are you with Jerric Dace?"

"We're old friends. I helped him finance his own expedition into the Deep Roads. It was part of the reason why Bartrand was having so many problems financing our own expedition. We lost a good deal of coin in that endeavor," Varric answered.

"Did he ever tell you why he sent that expedition?" Morgana asked further.

"No, but that's not unusual. We might be friends and business partners, but professional courtesy only extends so far," Varric replied. "I just know that he went to some remote Thaig called..."

"Amgarrak," Morgana stated. She was silent for a moment, contemplating what she was going to reveal to us. "His younger brother lead the expedition. When they went missing, he came to see me in Denerim personally to enlist my help in locating the expedition and finding out what happened to them. There are three pertinent facts are that you have to be aware of. First, post-Caridin golem research was being conducted there. Secondly, despite being long abandoned, Darkspawn presence is thin there compared to other areas of the Deep Roads- like Bownammar and Kal Hirol. Thirdly, and most importantly, despite overwhelming evidence of golem research going on there, Branka- the woman who knowingly and gleefully sacrificed her entire house in the name of getting her hands on the Anvil of the Void and regaining the ability to make golems- actively avoided going there."

"Wait, you're telling me that Jerric sent an expedition to a place that even Darkspawn and a crazy madwoman like Branka avoided going to?" Varric asked incredulously.

"Oh, it gets much worse," Morgana resonded with a fake smile. "While there, we found out that a Tevinter mage had been hired to help with the reasearch in hopes that what little of Caridin's research that remained could help the dwarves of Amgarrak rediscover the method of creating golems. Naturally, something went wrong and all contact with the Thaig was lost- overrun, not by Darkspawn as some might have assumed, but by a creature created in the Forges of Amgarrak itself that they called The Harvestor. Your descriptions of what Orsino became match that of the creature- which was by all indications, a Blood Golem created from corpses- that Jerric, Brogan and I encountered in Amgarrak."

"One has to wonder how safe it is travelling with the Hero of Fereldan, the Champion of Kirkwall and the Herald of Andraste," Dorian points out with a slight shudder. "The things the three of you seem to encounter by yourselves is enough to give anyone nightmares. Maker only knows what would have to be conjured up to to collectively challenge the three of you at once."

"Another one of those creatures... Kind of makes you wonder what else might be out there. Makes you wonder if Corypheus is as unique as we all assume he is," Blackwall reasoned.

"Let's hope so. One of him is bad enough as it is," Varric replied.

"That's something we can all behind," Dorian says with full agreement.

Only I seemed to notice just how silent Morgana had gotten as the Inquisitor's companions continued on with the conversation.


End file.
